


for my great friend, you.

by jeonginks



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Action, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, a very tiny bit of romance, thriller if you squint really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-07-30 10:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeonginks/pseuds/jeonginks
Summary: hell week, or so-called as the idol purge week, is coming up. and stray kids hired an assassin to be one of their bodyguards through out this hellish week. jisung, particularly, seemed to have developed some interest in this assassin.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t expect a lot of people to… like this, but that is just my assumption. maybe some people find the morbidity interesting. anyway, i hope you enjoy if you choose to read this. 
> 
> Warning: mentions of crimes, killing, blood, character death

A shot through the heart is the best way.

It was what you have been taught ever since the start of your training to become an assassin.

After the deliberate kill of your parents and an unfortunately successful kidnapping, you have been scouted by the man from a camp in which the dangerous atmosphere and deadly surroundings were far too complicated for your simple mind to process. You didn’t understand what the man spoke of before, but after tattooing a handful of fluent languages on your tongue, you understood.

“That kid has potential. Look at them. Not one single tear shed even before the sight of their dead parents. Absolutely nothing.”

They hadn’t known your parents were never the good type, that they may have done you a favor by taking them out without further questions. But it was exactly their ignorance that kept you alive and skilled to protect yourself today so you supposed life has its own way of moving you along.

Ever since that day, you were brought somewhere else to train with a group of other children in a secret mansion-like boarding school hidden in the depths of the woods in Greece, you grew up to learn. And the first thing you ever learned, you remembered the exact words from your teacher, spoken with not malice but wit as if killing was not established as a crime but a form of art within the grounds of the assassination academy.

“Aim for the biggest mass of the body part. While aiming for the head could also do the deed, we are not trying to take our chances here. We look for targets that don’t swerve, we look for precision.”

Always aim for the heart. Nice and Clean.

The music in your earplugs overwhelmed your brainwaves to cause a light migraine at the back of your head but it was nothing you’ve never experienced before. You were not sure why your handler had made you plug in the music from your cassette player—a valuable gift from a school nurse you adored as much as your emotional capability allowed you to—and set it to the highest volume (even then, you could still hear the slight static of the outside noises), but you obeyed nonetheless.

After a long flight of utter discomfort and utter boredom despite having been saved a first-class seating, where all you’ve really done was trail your finger along the tip of your hidden dagger as you leaned your head against the windowpane to look outside, still listening to the same tape gifted to you, you were dragged all the way onto a minivan and drove all the way to an unfamiliar building with three big blue letters: JYP printed on it.

You followed your handler along as he moved in and talked to the ladies working behind the receptions for a moment before bringing you into an elevator and eventually up to a convention room with people already seated inside and waiting. You were urged to stand beside him at the edge of the table as he talked to the old man sitting all the way at the other side of the rectangular desk.

Your soulless gaze trailed across the room, from the white ceiling to the white walls, then your eyes scanned across a few men dressed in suits seated on the left side before finally going across the nine younger-looking boys with styled hair and fashionable outfits seated on the right side of the table.

Jisung caught your eyes when he glanced over curiously, having been looking around as the older adults talked, and he felt a shudder inching down his spine. He peeled his eyes away quickly, trying to focus on what his boss was saying instead of thinking about the maliciously indifferent gaze you held behind your eyes.

“How have things been for you?”

“Nothing much, just handling everything for Hell Week. I’ve hired bodyguards ready for TWICE and after their last promotion stage, they will be headed to another country to avoid the chaos. The same will go for most of my other artists, but TWICE and Stray Kids are one of my main concerns as of this moment.”

The boys kept their silence but the rigid tension that filled the room as soon as the Idol Purge Week, or as everyone called it: Hell Week, was mentioned, they all collectively gulped down a harsh knot in their throat.

Your handler looked around the table and his eyebrows raised, “I am assuming little (Name) here isn’t going to be looking after a girl group then?”

“No. As much as I want to, the budget is not going to cut it for the company. The private bodyguards know to raise their rates at this time of year and they are going up to an insane amount. We already spent too much on TWICE and GOT7 that we hardly have enough for the boys over here,” Park PD-nim explained as he gestured towards the boys.

“We so far only have five bodyguards for them and that is not going to be enough considering how they’ve been a huge threat to the other fandoms of rising boy groups and possibly existing boy groups by winning multiple rookie awards and being nominated huge awards.”

Basically speaking, fandoms will be out for their throats as soon as clock strike Hell. Being a talented, successful rookie boy group from such a big company gets you nowhere but the corner of a tunnel with blood dripping down your head during Hell Week. Never mind mercy and humanity, people do what they please for the people they love and only the people they love.

“Don’t they have a large fanbase to protect them?” Your handler asked, curious to the bones how this system works.

“Sure, but they can’t be there for the boys twenty-four-seven. Besides, they have their own targets. It is like all of a sudden the boys stop being their top priority, as soon as they get the chance to eliminate the people they hate,” Park PD-nim said, “These fans, I tell you, they don’t love more than they hate.”

Your handler chuckled with condescension. In the face of obsessive and delusional fans who would literally pave a way for their idols with blood, he wasn’t sure what else he could have done but laugh and simply let those people take the consequences of their own decisions because obviously talking to them hadn’t been a successful method for the past few years.

“Well, nothing is ever going to be me or (Name)’s problem so quite frankly, I can’t care less who dies and who doesn’t,” he confessed then, ignoring the churning faces of the boys as he pointed at you, “Shall we let them join the conversation? I need to give them a thorough explanation for pulling them out of a big scale mission with their fellow classmates. They are killing this Italian millionaire associated with the mafia of some sort. I didn’t do the research, those damn kids did.”

This was the first formal introduction of your identity to the boys and they couldn’t even tell if it was a slip of the mouth and the truth was supposed to be kept a secret or if no one really cares that an actual assassin and their handler was standing before them in this room. They would normally call the whole situation bluff, but with Hell Week approaching, it seemed reasonable that their boss would result in hiring a skilled helper with a merciless title.

“I thought companies are banned from hiring high profile officials like that…?” Chan spoke up suddenly, his brows furrowed in intimidation as he glanced over at you and your handler for a brief moment.

“They are, but (Name) isn’t here as an assassin. (Name) is here as the child of your boss’ old college friend. And don’t worry about the internet, we’ve had all our students’ social life completely fabricated. Their real identity doesn’t exist on the surface of this Earth so don’t worry about their status ever being exposed,” your handler assured with a nod of his head, seeing Chan’s expression of disbelief, he laughed faintly.

Chan sat back down on his seat, the cushioned chair suddenly feeling more uncomfortable than ever upon realizing the seriousness of this situation and the unreliability just about everything his boss had planned: lie to the face of the law, hiring someone with an utter lack of commitment regarding this situation to protect their well-being, said hired person being someone who looked just about as old as he was—this was unbelievable.

You were not quite sure of what the situation was when you were told to pull away your earplugs. You shared a look with your handler, who was smiling almost awkwardly when he finally faced you. His hands were clasped before his chest when he gestured towards the boys sitting to your right, “(Name), these boys are Stray Kids, and you are going to be looking after them through Hell Week.”

In the midst of you curling your earphones around your index finger, you looked up from the thin white plastic wrap to the boys, accessing their appearances carefully, one by one capturing their features in your brain. Your naturally indifferent yet intense gaze once again sent shivers down Jisung’s back, he was sure it did the same effect to the rest of his friends too. It was hard not to when you looked like you were about to make a nightmarish decision regarding their own fragile life.

Your eyes shifted through the boys, finally landing back on Jisung’s wide ones. Briefly recalling the one-second moment of you two meeting eyes when you walked into the room, your brows furrowed slightly at the sudden gain of curiosity in his eyes as he held onto yours.

Your thoughtful expression was less chilling, Jisung thought. Maybe because your brain was more occupied with doing something than being left alone with music and a blank sheet of thoughts in your head, and your eyes were flickering with an analytical light that didn’t quite scream kindness, but they scream less horrifying than the bored gaze you’ve held for as long as you’ve been in this room.

And Jisung was curious, just the tiniest bit, how you managed to do that, to look like you didn’t feel anything. But he supposed assassins learn to lie really well at some point.

He hadn’t even noticed that you two held each other’s gaze for a little too long to be called normal but you didn’t seem to care. It was the little smirk you flashed him as you tilted your head to the side, your eyebrows raising knowingly like you just saw right through him. His thoughts, his feelings, his mind (even if you didn’t, you had him convinced you did)—that, that snapped him back to reality.

“What’s your name?”

You sounded more cheerful than Jisung thought you would. Not cheerful, but more than he predicted. It was more on the intelligent side than the bubbly side, he thought. He was once again trapped in his own trance that he forgot you just asked him a question. When Minho, who sat beside him, gave him a gentle nudge with his feet, Jisung shook his head a little and nodded.

“Uh, Ji–Jisung, Han Jisung.”

“What about Mr.Leone?” You asked, your eyes lingering a little on Jisung before you turned your head to give him a breather.

The conversation was no longer between the two of you, Jisung had realized by then, but that didn’t mean he could stop the slight pumping of his heart at the intriguing aura beneath your eyes and the fact that you asked for only his name.

“Your brothers and sisters will finish the job.” Your handler replied curtly.

“Why can’t they babysit?”

“Uh, excuse me,” Park PD-nim broke into the secretive conversation with a clearing of his throat as he leaned onto the desk with his hands laced together, putting himself in a more professional position, “This is more serious than just a babysitting job. Hell Week is insane, I don’t think you understand how many casualties occurred because of this annual event.”

“With all due respect, sir, give me an hour in front of a computer and I will find out more than you ever will,” you retorted with a blink of your eyes, “But do tell me the general idea of Hell Week. I would like to know about it before I… protect people from it.”

“Hell Week happens annually. Have you seen the movie The Purge–”

“They haven’t. None of our students have.”

“It is really bullshit. They never show us fun movies,” you commented casually, ignoring the look your handler gave you.

Park PD-nim sighed a little in defeat. He looked away for a moment before returning his eyes on you and your handler, “In Korea, idols take up a huge part of mainstream entertainment. Groups have very dedicated fanbases that will, I have just learned, literally do anything they can for the groups of their liking. Minor details, Hell Week is a week dedicated for the giant fanbases to legally do whatever they want with any idols and each other.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Whatever they want?”

“Yes. Murder, kidnapping, harassment. All kinds of activities that are supposedly out of bounds become legal for an entire week. It used to be one day, but when companies started to take precaution, fandoms started to start riots to protest for a longer duration, and here we are.”

“What for?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

“To keep the top idols where they are, to eliminate threatening talents, to bring certain groups up the charts, crimes of passion? You name it, they probably have it,” Park PD-nim shrugged incredulously, “I don’t know. Haven’t you got enough cases to at least be able to catch on to why people want to kill other people.”

The tension was awkward. What he said was seemingly over the line for some of the boys. Some of them believed their boss didn’t have to point it out so obviously what you have done in the past and was still doing, while some of them were simply still in a state of hazy realization that you, someone whose hands stained with blood, was standing right in front of them.

However, you only hummed knowingly, processing the information in your head as quick as lighting and although not finding anything particularly disturbing about the explained event, you did find the entire week completely unnecessary and you were, at last, unable to understand why people would waste their time on something like this.

“The people who hire me are cowards who can’t afford to do the job themselves,” you spoke suddenly, deciding to give the older man a dose of reality despite not quite caring what he thought about you. “And no, I usually don’t care about why my clients want to kill certain people. As long as the pay is enough, then the job is done. I wouldn’t have to know the reason.”

You handled it perfectly, supposedly, but your lack of empathetic responses gave the boys an idea that you weren’t here to make friends or to hand them an extra plate of consideration for having to go through such a horrible week. You were only here to keep them away from trouble, and that was about all you were going to do.

“I can do anything I want, right?” You asked after a moment of silence, “Not that I have been abiding by the law, but this means I can outrightly take someone out in public and not get caught?”

“Yes, but I’d like it if you can still lay low a little and try not to show off too much, (Name),” your handler replied before anyone could, not that much of anyone in the room was planning to answer you.

“I don’t show off,” you said, shaking your head with deadpan eyes.

“You should.”

“Except I won’t.”

Your handler clapped his hands together with a slight hardening of his eyes. Of all the assassins he had worked out or was working with, you had topped the chart as one of the most difficult ones to work with in terms of social interaction. You get the job done, all the time, but trying to maintain a conversation without you retorting him every other second was almost impossible.

He looked to his old friend, “So! What are we going to do? Do we have everything planned out?”

Park PD-nim nodded, “Yes. (Name) is going to be living with the boys for the entirety of Hell Week–wait, don’t give me that look yet! I have my reasons, alright? It is safer that way, just in case of emergencies.”

“Where are they going to stay? We don’t have enough room for an extra person,” Chan asked the question everyone else was dying to ask but didn’t have enough guts to do so, in front of both you and Park PD-nim.

“I can sleep on the couch,” you said, turning over to look at Chan, “The couch works just fine for me.”

He shuddered. Up until this point he kind of already has it down that your intensity for humane emotions was very much lacking and in dire need to improvement (it was the little smirk you gave Jisung that made his hope linger, what was that?). Yet somehow it felt as if it was his first time realizing it whenever he hears your voice or sees you looking straight back at him with nothing but two orbs in your eyes.

They were like cheap placeholders for the feelings that were supposed to be there.

“Great. (Name) and the bodyguards over here, are going to be following you guys on your schedules for Hell Week so try getting used to having them around, especially (Name) over here,” Park PD-nim announced, “For now, let us go get registered for Hell Week.”

You raised an eyebrow at your handler upon a piece of information you have yet to require and could not understand. He waved his hand at you dismissively, urging you out of the room, and you did.

As you uncurled your headphones from your index finger and plugged it back into your ears, starting your old cassette player to keep the song going, Jisung’s eyes trailed after you, his heart still pumping with interest at the assassin he just met the afternoon.

* * *

When the boys got back home from their morning schedule, you were found to be sitting right in the middle of their living, before the tea table with your laptop screen brightened and your earplugs still working with the cassette player sitting prettily next to your crossed legs. You were the only person in their empty dorm apartment, and suspicious, curious glances were raised towards your carefree presence.

Chan was the first one to step into their home. He kicked his shoes off gently and lined it up next to the small metal rack by the shoe cabinet none of them really used (it was more so for the laying around of chucks of keys and broken earphones). The rest of the boys followed suit then, realizing their leader thought nothing much of your presence in their very own home and assuming more detailed procedure of you living with them had been arranged behind the scenes with Chan instead of the whole group.

“Do you have anything with you, (Name)?” Chan asked first when he glanced back up from his feet, a polite expression on his face where he wasn’t quite smiling (due to the awkward tension) but he wasn’t quite frowning (due to courtesy) either.

You shook your head, “No. Just some clothes, one pair of shoes, and a laptop. I can do just fine by the couch so don’t worry too much about it.”

Chan looked over to where you gestured towards and saw that a black duffle bag lying with its zipper opened by the edge of the couch. The other boys cowered over to look, some nodding and some humming in understanding before they went ahead to go different ways in the dorm. Chan, on the other hand, looked onwards at the duffle bag, his eyes squinting at the light reflection coming from within the empty darkness.

You noticed his questioning gaze and you reached over to lower the opening of your bag, revealing the small amount of weaponry you brought along with you as a precaution. “They’re just weapons, a push dagger, a pistol, and a silencer. The pocket knife is with me,” you said, flipping up your pastel cardigan to reveal a folded black titanium strapped to the hoister of your jeans.

The boys were doing their own thing just a moment ago, ready to head back into their rooms and flinging themselves on top of their comfortable beds, but with the mention of the small number of gears you’ve got with you, their interest was piqued.

It was definitely dangerous to have someone skilled with weapons living with them during Hell Week, especially when they couldn’t be sure who is going to betray who or who is going to kill who, but there was something about you utter lack of participation in this week that got them to think you wouldn’t even bother to try and take any of them out, so you should be fine.

“Can I see it, the pocket knife?”

You raised an eyebrow at Jisung, the intrigued looks he flashed you as he approached you after putting down his bag and sat down on top of the couch was evident. His wide eyes were alert but very much accessible to know that he meant no harm, he was just a curious boy who had watched too many action movies to want to flip a pocket knife and feel badass about it.

You raised an eyebrow at him, silently undermining his motivation with your underestimating smirk. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to play with it, it was just that the pocket knife held some kind of significance to you and you hardly ever let anyone use it anymore.

Jisung took your silence as hesitation and he pursed his lips a little in shame, “I don’t really look the part. I am kind of… small, but I promise I won’t hurt myself with it!”

Widening your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out an airy chuckle of amusement. His expression turned questioning then, but he was happy to know that you do have it in you to laugh at certain things and that he has the ability to make you laugh. Seeing the utter confusion on the narrowing of his brows, you calmed down and, much to his dismay, returned your facial expression back to the completely unreadable one, where your eyes were unreachable and empty yet you made it seemed like it was fine to live that way.

“I am sure you can handle yourself well, Jisung,” you said, “But I don’t let anyone use this anymore because of something that happened when I was younger. This is the first weapon I choose to use, somehow knives intrigue me. Someone tried to frame me with this when they killed my roommate with it, they didn’t know I was still going to be one of the best even after they killed my roommate. It was quite the bummer.”

“O–oh… I am sorry,” Jisung muttered, looking up at his friends’ wide-eyed looks of apology and accusation.

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do it and that happened a long time ago. I got over it quickly,” you shook your head with an amused laugh. You never really cared that she died, it wasn’t your problem to fix and it didn’t happen to you.

“Still, they are your roommate. You must have had a hard time trying to adjust to the change,” he said empathetically and you flinched inwardly at the unfamiliarity of such a gentle, unthreatening voice spoken to your face.

You forced a smile, your chest churning slightly like the fallen sparks of a failed attempt at lighting a match, but still sparks nonetheless. Your first thought about Jisung, how he managed to make you feel even the tiniest hurdle of emotion, was alert and danger. In order to keep up your facade—the facade you have been wearing so long you forgot it was fake—what you really needed to do was to inch away from him.

“Sure,” you said quickly before returning back to your laptop to check for your progress.

Jisung bit his lower lip stiffly as he looked up at his friends again. Your response was cold, he must have said something wrong again. The rest of the boys all seemed to be throwing him dirty looks of disproval for bringing up such a horrible topic and Jisung could only shrug to his own defense. He didn’t know! He was just trying to be nice and start a conversation, who knew it would lead to you talking about your murdered roommate?

He looked back at you then, his eyes traveling from your hands to the screen of your laptop. A page of a familiar social media site was present on your screen, next to the small tab was another site opened. That one appeared to have more words, kind of like a Wikipedia page, but judging from the color and font change in the article, it was more likely a vlog.

“What is that?” He asked impulsively.

Seungmin threw his arms up silently, frustration was written over his opened mouth and hardened eyes, Hyunjin simply rolled his eyes as a small chuckle escaped his lips. How Jisung could manage to speak again after the monstrosity that was his previous conversation with you was unimaginable, but that was something only he could ever do, they supposed.

You scrolled down the article, your cat-like eyes focused on each and every word to look for any valuable information. It took you a few moments to reply to Jisung, nobody tried to interrupt you nor did Jisung attempted to repeat his question when they sensed the irruption rubbing off the top of your head and flashing through the tilt of your head.

“I was doing some research about Hell Week yesterday night and I found something fun. Have you guys heard of the little event called Project Glitter?” You asked, looking up at all of those who decided to linger in the living room due to their faint interest in Jisung’s conversation with you.

Laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt at talking normally with you was easy but as soon as your eyes lay on top of them, they realized how hard it was to answer your simple question while trying to without your gaze as if it wasn’t putting them off at all. Something about your eyes screamed caution, perhaps it was how inaccessible you were.

Eyes don’t lie, it was always scary to look into someone’s eyes and know absolutely nothing about how they feel.

“Hello? Earth to Stray Kids?” You called out, waving your hands in the air, “Hyunjin? Seungmin? Jeongin–is anything here actually present?”

“You know our names?” Jeongin asked, his eyes carefully boring into yours.

You nodded funnily, “Yeah? I did some research about you guys yesterday.”

“Like a full background search or just normal celebrity profile kind of search?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes widening at you.

“I don’t have time to learn about your history, Hyunjin. Besides, if you and your family have never recklessly posted on social media we can’t find anything about you. Hacking is just hacking, we don’t fish information out from thin air when they don’t exist anywhere but in your memories,” you explained with a deadpan, low-key having a judgemental tone in your voice but you weren’t flaunting it too much. “Just celebrity profile search. I mostly looked for things about Hell Week and Project Glitter happen to be a project that had been running since the first year of Hell Week, I found.”

“That was a long time ago! It is still going now?” Jisung asked, turning his head to you.

You looked at your screen then, your gaze blazing through the screen carefully. With a small nod, you replied, “Yeah. Apparently, the current leader of the group had been running for the last three years. This sounds like a huge group under one single idol group, any idea which one it could be?”

The boys shrugged. They have been forbidden to look for anything related to Hell Week as a precaution to gaining anxiety, which was a pretty bullshit rule but the whole idea of Hell Week was already a bullshit law so you weren’t going to talk too much into it. Plus, it wasn’t like self-made groups would simply accept anyone into the privacy of their murder schedule. Even if they tried to look for hints of who wanted who dead, they most likely couldn’t without the knowledge required.

They wouldn’t have known anything. It didn’t mean they couldn’t guess who that group was working for, though, but they weren’t about to start dropping names of fandoms famous for their toxicity and delusions.

“Why? Did you find anything?” Seungmin asked as he approached the couch and sat down next to Jisung, leaning over to look at your screen.

You shook your head, “Not really. Only about the group’s history and their members. But their schedule or their plan were completely confiscated, it wasn’t even shown on the group page… I guess these people aren’t entirely stupid after all.”

Your bit on your nails, closing the useless article and widening the tab with the group’s member site you have successfully trespassed into without much effort put on your part. You were starting to doubt the credibility of the site, though, since easy things were never quite the useful ones. But despite having that thought, you scrolled through the member list one by one and attempted to memorize all those you could find with pictures of their faces on either their profile pictures or their personal page.

They could hear you muttering name after name as you went down the list and they were unsure of what you were trying to achieve, but they chose not to bother you at the moment since you sounded so concentrated. Seungmin stood up from the couch and left for the kitchen, where you grabbed a small bottle of yogurt before leaving for his room with Jeongin trailing behind.

Hyunjin paused before the door of his room, turning back to look at Jisung as he asked, “Wanna come in? Or are you going to stay here?”

Jisung noticed the way Hyunjin shifted his gaze uneasily to you before returning it back to him. His lips tucked downwards then. Although being rather understanding of why his friends would grow cautious of someone like you, he felt it there wasn’t any need for them to act any less friendly than they otherwise would have to a stranger who was going to work in their staff team, especially when it came to saving their goddamn life. But he wasn’t going to call his friends out for it, though, he was just going to make up for it himself.

With a shake of his head, Jisung turned back to you. When the door closed behind him, he heaved a heavy sigh that caught your attention. Without peeling your eyes away from the screen, you told him with more casual voice, “You don’t have to sit here if you don’t want to. I am just going to do some more learning for myself, possibly not talking to you unless you talk to me first. You can leave, Jisung.”

He grumbled under his breath at your rejection to his friendly motives. He was sure you didn’t actually hate it though, you simply felt indifferent to it, and that… that wasn’t as bad as he had expected. At least you weren’t actively pushing him away. Sliding down so he could sit in the little space next to you, he asked, “Do you need any help? Maybe I can get you a glass of water? We have chips in here.”

You laughed dryly. All your laughs were sarcastic or empty, Jisung has yet to hear a whole-hearted laugh from you yet, and he wanted to plainly out of curiosity. Shaking your head a little, you said, “No thank you… although, I do have a small question to ask you, if I may?”

“Oh–yeah, definitely. Go ahead, feel free, and I will be shutting up now,” Jisung lowered his head embarrassedly after he paused his own rambling.

You blinked at him a few times as if rearranging your question in your head, and you leaned a little closer to his face for dramatic effect before you started, “You knew Hell Week is a thing, why did you still choose to be an idol?”

People had asked him that before, people had asked his group the same question before: Why do you want to be an idol? No one, absolutely none, had ever phrased it the way you did though, asking him why still become one despite this chaotic event aimed directly at people like him?

Jisung smiled a little, and you found it intriguing how he could still smile approaching a topic concerning his well-being. He knew his answer, it had been the same and it would always be the same.

“Why did you become an assassin, (Name), if I may ask?”

You hummed, “To stay alive. I need to live, I want to live.”

He gestured towards you with a knowing gaze, raising an eyebrow as he did so. “I am the same as you,” he replied, “I love music, and being an idol lets me do exactly that. But not only am I doing it for myself, but I am also doing it for people around the world. I need to make music to stay alive, I perform to live because I love doing it too much that if I was forbidden from ever doing it, I would rather die.”

That wasn’t on the same level as your situation but you could tell where Jisung was coming from and what he was trying to say. You let your eyes soften a little at his honest presence, feeling his sincerity being poured out of his chest as he willingly put himself in a vulnerable state before you.

You wouldn’t return the same vibe, you couldn’t return the same feeling because you were never taught to, so you gave him as much as you could do for now. Reaching out for you cassette player, you held it up and shook it gently by your face, “I like music too. Not as much as you do but songs calm me down a lot, so I guess your point is valid.”

Jisung glanced from your cassette player to your face, finding the mellowness of your voice a very attractive change. Your duality was unbelievable, one second you were this emotionless being with a stoic gaze and the next you were asking him intriguing questions and softening yourself up for him. It could just be your mad skills in pretending but Jisung could not care less about that at the moment.

“My point is very valid,” he said with a firm nod and an amused grin, “But I am happy you like music. Do you like any of ours?”

You didn’t speak for a while, casting Jisung’s heart to speed up a little in embarrassment. But you turned to look at him after a moment, staring right into his eyes like it was the easiest thing to do. Pressing your cheek to your knee, you playfully arched your eyebrows as you smirked at him the way you did when you asked for his name the first time.

“I quite like MIA,” you confessed, “You sound great rapping. A little different from your talking voice but overall, you have a nice voice and I like it.”

“Oh really… thanks, thank you, wow,” his cheeks tinted with a shy shade of pink as he smiled down at his feet, scratching the back of his neck bashfully as he took the compliment and stored it in his heart like it was some precious gem (Well, how many people can say that an assassin complimented their music? Not a lot, so let him enjoy his moment).

You puffed out a smile before looking back at your laptop screen, “Don’t look so happy. Seungmin’s voice is more my type, to be honest.”

“I can’t tell if that is an attempt to tune down my ego boost or if you are telling the truth, (Name),” Jisung said, “But you said what you said so no take backs! You like my voice!”

You rolled your eyes at him, reaching out to flick him in the forehead before returning your hand back to your side. But he didn’t seem to mind it that much, he didn’t seem to mind you that much.

* * *

Hell Week officially starts at six o'clock during the evening. Unlike the previous Hell Weeks, this one was a bit tricky for all the idols and a huge jackpot for the fandoms since it starts right at the ending stage of a music show. All the idols would be on top of the stage, open and vulnerable for the potential blood bath that would head their way.

You were nowhere to be seen before and after Stray Kids finished their performance since you were busy receiving a small tour around the staging area of the building given by your colleagues. You had the time to check out the stage and the audience area before the broadcast started, now that those areas were all occupied, you focused your attention on the backstage area.

Jisung was actively seeking out for you when their performance ended, his eyes skimming through the staffs to find you standing nowhere the area they were in. A pout had slowly formed on his face as he followed all his friends back to their waiting room, where they all slumped down on the available chairs and couches to get their well-deserved rest. Walking through the hallways and finally arriving back to their room was a giant failure for him regarding his quest to search for your shadow.

“What’s up, Jisung?” Chan asked after having glanced at him for a few times and realizing how disappointed his friend looked.

“Don’t worry about it, he is just looking for (Name),” Hyunjin pointed out from the side, a teasing smirk evident on his face as he peeked over his phone to look at Jisung.

Chan raised an eyebrow, confused but not enough to ask questions about Jisung’s relationship with you. You had only been here for a couple of hours, despite Jisung spending the entirety of their resting period between morning schedule and this music show in the living room with you, he didn’t believe you two would have hit it off too well since it didn’t sound like you two talked a lot from his room, and he always knows when Jisung is talking.

Growing a little defensive, Jisung raised his hand to point lifelessly at Hyunjin, his eyes wide and a blush creeping up his cheeks, “I am just seeing if they’re here because they are supposed to protect us, right? How are they going to do that by not being around us?”

“You mean by not being around you?” Seungmin popped into the conversation, joining forces to tease Jisung about his choice of action when it came to you, “Just admit you have a small crush on (Name) and leave.”

Most of the boys snapped their head over then, the newly squared information sparking more interest in them than whatever was on the screen of their phones. Some of them looked intrigued while some of them seemed unapproved of Jisung’s decisions to place his emotions.

“On (Name)? Jisung, they are an assassin, you know that right?” Changbin asked, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, “They take people out and do all kinds of illegal things. Are you sure?”

Jisung stuck his tongue to his inner cheeks, conflicts flickering before his eyes. He knew that, of course, it was one of the first few things made clear to them when you were introduced before everyone: you are an assassin, you kill for a living. He understood what his friend was trying to say, for sure, that he shouldn’t be careless and let his romantic feeling be associated with immorality such as you because it was never going to work, not for him.

He wasn’t very sure either, why he was hung up on you after merely several hours of very minimal interactions. The most you personal thing you have told him was that you like their songs and you found Seungmin’s voice the most attractive (stupid Kim Seungmin, stealing his spotlight!). Other than that, it was either a paragraph of informative facts regarding Hell Week or complete silence from you.

And between that, Jisung chose Hell Week. He wanted to listen to you speak, to hear your intelligent and calming voice. It was a product of his little crush on you, which he heavily assumed came from the fact that you asked for his name and only his name back in the meeting room, and you smirked at him twice. He didn’t know why you did it, but you smirked at him, your eyes sparkling in an unconsciously alluring way, gently seduced him in without your own knowledge, which just made it a whole lot better in his opinion.

“It’s just a stupid crush, I will get over it,” Jisung rolled his eyes, attempting to make it look and sound like he didn’t care.

His friends gasped at his confirmation, completely ignoring what he said and instead choosing to focus on the fact that he indeed gained a small crush on you. How unbelievable! It wasn’t weird that he developed a crush at such a short time, people develop crushes at the shortest time periods, it was his lack of caution towards your identity that made his friends so surprised.

He could have had a crush on anyone! On one of their staffs or with his fellow idols, but no, he has one on a freaking assassin who would only be here for Hell Week. That was such a reckless decision!

“You have to get over it!” Minho nodded.

“I will. Stop bothering me about it okay?” Jisung groaned in something near to an exclamation as he threw his hands up in defeat before dropping himself down the couch he was sitting on. His head was buried deep in his arms, hiding his reddening cheeks from plain sight, but he let his eyes peek over a little when he heard new voices coming through the door.

His eyes lingered on your figure as you leaned up to talk to a bodyguard secretly, nodding at them sternly after the muttered your words back to your ear before sending them away with a wave of your hand. You didn’t look back at him, not even once as you turned back into the room to head over to your bag. It was as if you were deliberately turning away from him and Jisung was smashing his brain to figure out a reason why you were letting your gaze move past everyone on the staff team except for him (and his friends but he was being a little self-centered right now).

You zipped your bag back up and shoved the face mask into your pocket, crumbling it into a ball when your hand was shoved into the pocket of your hoodie. You could feel Jisung’s eyes on you, his gaze was far too intense for you not to feel it. But it wasn’t the intimidating kind of intense you have gotten so used, it was something you have never experienced, thus you couldn’t begin to explain it to yourself exactly what you were feeling.

Moving over to sit down on a chair before the couch, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your rough skin stained with acne spots you never paid much attention to, small scars around the edges of your face, tired lines smudging the corner of your eyes—you were in complete contrast to all the pretty, dolled up people in each and every room of this building, but you didn’t quite care.

You have skills they don’t and they have skills you don’t. You loved your own set of skills the same way they loved theirs, so you weren’t as stumped about the differences in your looks than most people would have expected you to be.

Finally, you let your eyes travel from your own face to behind your shoulder through the mirror, where you met Jisung’s set of curious eyes that were peeking through his arms. You held his face for a moment, testing out the waters and seeing how he would react. When he arched his eyebrows at you questioningly, almost playfully, you returned his unclear message with a challenging eye squint and the faintest smile.

Jisung was a funny guy. Not in a humorous way but more so in a way he made you feel stable and mediocre just the way you needed. He didn’t act like he was scared of you or he was cautious of you. He talked to you normally, no awkward tension floating around the area, like friends. He wasn’t afraid to laugh in front of you or to laugh at you if you did or said anything comical in any way.

In his eyes, you didn’t feel like a trained product of a secret school, you felt like a normal person, a person who talks about music and chats with their friends. Just from that, Jisung was far exceeding all your prediction of how Stray Kids as a whole would act to you.

You two held gazes for a moment, the brief cliché moment feeling more hourly than ever. There might as well be a glittery fairy background and romantic pink music playing at the back. After a moment, a little too fast for Jisung’s liking, you turned away at a voice that announced the arrival time of the ending stage.

Your eyes furrowed slightly in preparation and your hand instinctively touched the push dagger in your pocket. Standing up swiftly, you moved away from your seat and headed outside the room without another word.

Jisung felt his heart tightened a little before it sped up at the brief wordless communication, still hung up on the scene. He caught onto the smile you flashed him, be it ant-sized or not, it was still a smile, and oh my lord, did he feel proud of that development?

He gave himself a moment to force down a smile that appeared anyway, burying his face in the back of his elbow as he let out a tiny squeal before he stood up, dusting himself of the positivity that coated his expression. Moving behind Chan, he placed his hands on the older boy’s shoulders and pushed him outside, acting as though nothing had happened.

* * *

The atmosphere in the audience area was drastically different than how it would be when Hell Week wasn’t approaching, but you would have never known that since you have never been in places like these before. You could tell, however, the people standing around you were more tense and nervous than how a normal human being should be.

Hands were shoved into pockets, gripping the sharpness hiding underneath; Innocence was used as a facade to mask the maleficent buried within their brain, all ready to carry out a preplanned destiny; Cheers were abnormally loud as idols slowly walked up to the colorful stage, preparing to shield the horror of screams and blood.

You hadn’t got a clock in your hands but you had decided you didn’t really need one. You had been counting down the seconds and minutes as soon as you left the room, a habit you have gained since your first kill as an assassin: counting down the seconds until someone dies by your hand.

It made you feel like you were in control somehow, always planning and knowing when someone will die. It was what you needed to forget the fact that you’ve been controlled, been told what to do, what to say, how to act since as long as you could remember.

You knew your calculations were not exact but what was a few seconds off? Time was as unimportant and useless as a stopped heart when you were approaching death. No one cares about the time when they are dying, they just care that they are dying.

“Fifty-eight,” you muttered under your breath, your head ducked as low as you could to appear invisible to most others who were paying their attention to the people on stage. You pulled out the mask in your pocket and wore it, throwing your hood over your head to reveal only your eyes to whoever would have to chance to see you.

Slowly sliding your way past the standing audience, shoving those who refused to move away, you made your way to the middle back and looked up in search for the boys whose faces you have grown familiar with. Your eyes scanned the crowd above, sharp gaze treading each figure with no amount of concern until you met eyes with Chan.

He was tense, his back stiffening up more when he caught you staring at him from below. He almost couldn’t recognize you, it was your eyes that gave you away within the crowd of bloodlust people. You were the same as before, alert but bored, like you were only here for kicks instead of bagging a purpose like everyone else.

This wasn’t scary for you. Standing among future murderers wasn’t scary for you. You were already one.

“Fifty-nine,” you mouthed at him, raising your hands as your eyes briefly moved over the entire group who seemed to slowly acknowledge your presence. When you returned your attention back to Chan, you pressed your fingers together and swapped them downwards, singling for them to duck their heads when the time comes.

The girl standing next to you shifted her weight, her hand moving around in her pocket. Such big movements, she might as well shout to the world she has plans to kill someone. You, after seeing her preparing to be in action, too reached into your pocket for your push dagger.

Your heart was speeding up, you were finally starting to feel the thrill of this. Swiping your lips across your bottom lip, you looked up at no one in particular before you smiled almost excitedly. You haven’t had actions like these since you graduated from the school, guess combat classes weren’t so useless after all.

A long bell suddenly rang throughout the area and possibly throughout the streets outside, and you knew the last second had ticked. You restarted your clock immediately, pulling out your dagger and swiftly turning to your side where you pierced the dagger through the girl’s neck, your hand holding the back of her neck to keep her in place as you muttered a quick ‘six’ under your breath, your eyes flashing sinisterly as you glared at the people behind you.

Just like that, with the six o’ clock mark, chaos ensued in the audience and stage area. Idols ran to take cover for themselves, shoving each other down the stage as quick as possible. Chan, somehow deciding to do as he was told, brought his nearby peers down to the ground and made sure everyone was sticking to your instruction before he pressed himself down for safety.

But strangely, nothing much was happening except for the screams emerging from below. There were no bullets, no arrows, no flying knives. Just screams and grunts and pants happening all too quickly for him to process. He could hear an occasional swinging of knives but nothing was coming towards the stage area if that was what he was worried about.

He glanced over at his friends, finding expressions that mirrored his own: confused, scared, but mostly confused. His fingers pressed against the floor clenched slightly when he decided to muster up the courage to raise his head between the giant speakers located on the edge of the stage. His eyes squinted at the audience area, looking around the moving bodies and ignoring the dead ones fallen on the ground.

There were fewer people, way lesser people even when he counted the ones on the ground. Only a few aggressive ones were left trying to fight a battle even Chan knew they were going to lose. He stood up slowly then, ignoring his friend’s hushed protest, his eyes furrowed as he found your still figure within the crowd, just pulling a bloodied weapon away from someone’s throat.

“Six-fifteen,” you muttered, the dagger in your hand already replaced with a broken arrow you grabbed off the ground. The tip was still sharp enough for you to use, it was what you needed after losing the dagger somewhere within the bodies and the ground. You moved back when the body in front of you slumped to the ground.

There was a significant decrease in people. The chaos should have gone on for far longer than this twenty minutes event but Chan assumed everyone had run away the second they realized people were falling knees down into a pool of blood one by one, all marked with the same injury: neck and throat cuts.

It was as if you were trying to make the announcement that one person was doing it, only one person, so they better leave because someone in the crowd was deliberately killing them. And you were, without a doubt.

You bent down to roam your hands around the girl’s body, finding useless name banners and keychains you threw behind your shoulder until you fished out a wallet, took out the money and threw the pastel wallet away. As your fingers moved through the cash in your hands, you turned around to find only yourself standing in the audience area and the exit door wide open for the bright sunlight to shine in like the gates of heaven.

You pouted slightly, your brows moving upwards in surprise as you turned to stare up at the stage. A few idols remained on the stage, none of them harmed due to most people being occupied by the unknown figure moving through gaps and putting an end to people’s lives. You carelessly removed your gaze from other idols and headed straight towards the ones you know.

Jisung moved to the front, his mouth ajar in disbelief as he gripped Chan’s forearm. His eyes were focused on you, the new side of your he never knew but has expected. Your face and your hands were stained with blood, but you didn’t seem to care much about it as your heart was more interested in the money in your hands.

And his eyes moved to the ground, feeling an awful sensation in his chest as he pursed his lips together in horror. He wanted to puke, the dead bodies contaminating his precious little mind in an attempt to corrupt him enough to haunt his day and night in the near future. The worst part wasn’t even the bodies but the fact that you did it, your very hands did it.

“Look how much I found on people!” You said after a moment, pulling down your mask to reveal your smiling face as you held up a stack of cash.

This wasn’t scary for you. Standing among dead bodies wasn’t scary for you. You killed them all.

How can he have a crush on someone like that?

* * *

The boys were appointed to wait in a meeting room after they arrived back to the entertainment building. Normally, after a music show, if there were no further schedule they would be heading back to the building for daily practices, but it was different today.

A lot was different today.

You had been moved to a separate room for what was told to be a psychological evaluation. You remembered being required to join in on these sessions back when you were still in school. You used to do it in groups, but later when the school realized there was something significantly troubling with your mindset, they personally hired you a shrink and moved you to enter one-on-on sessions instead.

Your shrink, Miss.Kim, has been with you for years. If anything you would say she knew you the most, but she would never know you more than you know yourself that was for sure. However, she has showcased her strong intellect and highly observant ability. She understood the inner workings of your mind, at least what really covers the surface of it, and she acted in a way where you could easily be yourself with her.

She didn’t act as though she cared about you personally, though, which you never really minded. She was only here to analyze and talk to you, not to make a friend. The only thing you and the school needed from her was her knowledge and her carefreeness regarding your identity and who you were trained to be.

Miss.Kim pushed open the door, her demeanor confident and collected. A pair of black thick-rimmed glasses took its place on the bride of her tall nose, covering the gentle wrinkles around the corners of her old but steady eyes. After setting down her paperwork, she sat down on the chair and faced the boys with a polite smile.

“Hello, boys. Not doing very well today, are we?” She said, crossing her legs under the table and interlocking her hands together. Without waiting for a reply, which the boys didn’t plan to give, she started, “Just humor me a little, boys, how do you feel about this?”

“About… Hell Week?” Jeongin spoke when no one else did, and he watched as Miss.Kim shook her head.

“No, not about the week. About your fans. You know what happens when this week ends, right? I’ve done my fair share of research, I’m sure locals here know about it. The next day happens, your fans are gonna gather up and mourn those who died but eight hours into the night, they will be counting off heads they’ve offed,” Miss.Kim pointed out.

“How does that make you feel? You say they’re the most precious people, you say that killing shouldn’t be excused, do you really think that?” Miss.Kim asked, “Or are you just showering them with your empty affection because they all happen to like you.”

“You–you’re generalizing.”

“It’s better than ignoring the truth,” Miss.Kim shrugged, “They all think they’re heroes for fighting your battles for you but in reality, they are just delusional, working so hard for the love and attention they can never fully receive.”

A moment of silence passed before she started again, finally branching into what she was here for. “Anyway, I have already told your boss about the evaluation so I am here to report to you guys about (Name)’s emotional status at the moment.”

“Why?”

She looked up at Minho, who had blurted out the question with genuine curiosity and perhaps a tinge of contempt. It was understandable, though, she acknowledged. It was hardly a normal thing to see someone they have had real-life interaction with go around murdering a bunch of people. She wouldn’t expect them to be okay with it.

With a small head tilt, she glanced at Minho, “Well, because they work for you, of course. And from what I’ve heard, they are living with you all at the moment, correct?”

“Even after that? No, no way,” Minho shook his head lightly, leaning forward just a fraction to display his protest. “They can’t live with us, that can’t be it.”

“Well, your boss is plenty happy that you all left the place safe and sound,” Miss.Kim said, her voice still leveled and calm.

“Oh yeah, for sure. We left the music show today and then what? Psychotic (Name) is gonna end up killing us all?”

Woojin furrowed his brows slightly at Minho’s tone of voice, the same way did everyone else despite some of them being on the same page as him, but Woojin was the only one who took the approach to nudge Minho on the feet as a warning sign for him to shut his mouth.

Miss.Kim’s brows furrowed then, a slight flicker of annoyance before her eyes as she fixated her gaze on Minho, who was as defensive as ever. And she knew, by the guilty looks on some of the boys’ face, that he wasn’t the only one completely appalled by your action today. She knew that. She understood why they were feeling that way, but her patience was wearing thinner the more Minho opened his mouth and spilled completely inconsiderate words.

Unlike Minho, she had to look at both sides of the coin. She couldn’t fully stand on your side after knowing your actions, but she couldn’t completely agree with Minho either as she knew of your past.

“I am here to talk about their evaluation and (Name) appears to be normal, like they always have been,” Miss.Kim informed, “They have always been a peculiar kid. Emotions weren’t shown normally when it comes to them. If you’ve at least tried to pay some attention, you would realize their eyes don’t speak the way yours do, and it wasn’t because they are trying to mask their feelings, it is because they can’t feel it.”

Generally speaking, you couldn’t distinguish between the good excitement and bad thrill. Wholehearted laughter that makes your heart jump and a dangerous leap of faith that makes your heart tumble feels the same to you—your nerves weren’t good at distinguishing what is a traumatic panic and what is a romantic panic, so killing people felt the same to you as running a mile.

And that wasn’t your fault. You were born that way and you never had to chance to be raised the better path, to feel only the good excitement. You were raised down the wrong one. Your life forced you the chance to kill someone, and there was absolutely nothing you could have done about it.

“They killed everyone.”

“That is what they were told to do, isn’t it?”

“You are talking as if everything about what they did is okay,” Minho huffed.

“Minho, please stop,” Woojin, who has been nudging Minho’s feet, finally spoke with a huff of annoyance that the boy has been ignoring his protest.

Miss.Kim sucked in a breath, her patience finally hitting the limit line. She slammed her palms on the table, startling the boys. She sat up a little, leaning over her files to stare the boys down as she spoke with firmness in her voice. Intimidating in a way you would be when you were young and your mother had called your name for the third time.

“I am talking like not every kid had the privilege that you have had. I am talking like not every kid had the privilege to go where they want to, do what they want to, and cry when they want to. I am talking like some kids out there were kidnapped and raised in a hostile environment where they have to learn to cope through emotional numbness,” she accused, emphasizing every start of her sentence to regain the attention she never lost.

She continued after a small pause, seizing the boys’ expressions, “You guys aren’t the ones with empathy forcefully stripped away from you so please, fucking act the part. You don’t have to be okay with what they did, you just don’t have to be so goddamn rude about it.”

“That so does not excuse what they did,” Minho said, persistent on his point of view.

“Then I suppose there is no excuse for what your fans are doing either. But we all know as soon as Hell Week ends, all of you are going to turn around and tell your little fanbase how much you love and appreciate them as if they haven’t been dragging a knife over someone’s throat either,” Miss.Kim breathed out a sarcastic chuckle, “I say let’s not establish such a double standard now, shall we? Your godforsaken industry has enough of those crap.”

Minho pursed his lips together. He turned away and briefly caught Jisung’s gaze. Jisung was looking back at him with gentle eyes, understanding eyes. Minho was scared, he knew, everyone was, and Jisung wasn’t about to put his fear against him. But the way Miss.Kim phrased her words, they all realized that she had a point, so Jisung made no attempt to console Minho at the moment.

Miss.Kim gave the group a brief nod before she collected her things and left the room. After a few moments, you walked through the room with your handler by your side, looking normal and unfazed by the previous tragedy you caused. Your hoodie was taken off, possibly heading to the washing machine with all the blood that you’ve collected, and your short-sleeved shirt made no attempt to hide the dark trace marks lining up parts of your skin.

The boys gulped at the sight. Injuries weren’t uncommon to them, not the accidental ones. Deliberate injuries that create gashes of ugly lines, however, were both foreign and terrifying. What exactly have you endured to get all of those? Have you forgotten about the incidents? Did you even care that you have them on your very skin?

For the first time, they realized they hadn’t considered your past at all. All they knew was that you assassinate and they really thought that was enough to give your soul a score.

Miss.Kim was right, Minho thought as he recalled her words.

You aren’t expected to be a saint, but don’t be a sinner either.

And when you were looking through the boys and he caught your eyes, he licked his lower lip slowly and he sent you a small nod.

* * *

Changbin left the studio room when you entered. Despite Chan’s poor attempt on trying to pry on his forearm, pulling him back down to the single couch he was once sitting on, he left the room without so much as a small huff. He didn’t make it very clear that he didn’t quite want you there, not because of what you did or the ignorance he just got called out for.

Well, partly because of those, but mostly he felt guilty he had been thinking the way Minho did: he focused on your bad side, your immoral side. He never expressed it but he did, unlike Minho, he didn’t have the guts to say it out loud. And when you walked into the room with your bare skin still out for everyone to see, your scars adorning your body like velvet tattoos, it only reminded him of that even more, so he decided to leave and give himself some space.

Your eyes followed him until he door was closed shut behind you and you returned your head to face Chan and Jisung, who was looking behind you at the door with emotionally exhausted eyes. They were more tired than before, you have noticed, and it wasn’t just the usual dark circles under their eyes or the slumps of their shoulders. The boys were sighing heavily and blinking rapidly, all the sighs of their heads getting messier by the minute since Hell Week started.

“I am just checking up on you guys to see if everything is okay,” you shrugged, “I can wait for you guys somewhere else, just tell me if there are any free rooms for me to crash on and I will be out of your hair.”

Both Jisung and Chan opened their mouths to speak, but Jisung was faster on voicing his thoughts. He gestured towards the last empty chair in the room where Changbin once seated, “No, no, it’s fine. You can sit here. We are just… just working on songs.”

Chan glanced at Jisung, finding his thoughts contrasting his as he had thought about finding you an empty room to be alone in. That was probably what you needed and definitely what he needed. But seeing Jisung was making an attempt to be a good person here, he decided to back off and let him.

You nodded knowingly, pulling our your cassette player from your pocket and shaking it lightly as you approached the seat and slumped down, “Okay. I won’t bother you guys, don’t worry. I will just be here and listening to this old thing.”

They watched as you plugged in your earphones and nonchalantly pressed play on your cassette tape. You paid them absolutely no attention as you increased your volume just enough to let them hear the faint beat of the music, telling them you were trying to block them out just as they were probably trying to block you out.

You shifted on the single couch, pulling your legs up to fit in a comfortable position. Before you laid your head on your arm, you looked over at the two boys and your eyebrows raised questioningly at their pointless stare. Snapping out of their little trance, the two looked away quickly and returned back to their papers.

The silence went on for a while. Chan and Jisung talked quietly to each other as if they were discussing some kind of top-secret you weren’t supposed to know about, even though they were pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to hear them nor were you at all interested in what they have to talk about.

“Did I tell you they searched us up?” Jisung said suddenly, his eyes still focused on the paper in his hand. He looked up when Chan didn’t respond and he repeated his sentence, “(Name) searched us up. They told me that yesterday. They also told me they like M.I.A and Seungmin has a nice voice apparently.”

“Apparently? We all know he has a nice voice,” Chan chuckled.

“Yeah, okay, but between me and Seungmin–”

“Seungmin.”

Jisung dropped his pen on the desk, a deadpan expression on his face. He knew Chan was just joking, if he had to make the choice himself, he would probably have chosen Seungmin too. But he was feeling a little playful right now, as he would normally, so he decided to throw a mini tantrum just for the fun.

Chan giggled when Jisung threw the eraser at him, raising his arms to block out the simple attack. A few protests left his lips before he stood up, slapping his palms to his thighs as he did so, and he headed over to the door as he said, “I’m gonna get us some drinks… uh… what–what do you think they like to drink? Like… water? Cola?”

“Who doesn’t like cola?” Jisung furrowed his brows.

“I don’t know, maybe assassins have weird diets to keep them fit?” Chan retorted before he waved his hand, “Oh, whatever. I’ll just get them banana milk.”

He left the room, leaving you and Jisung alone. As soon as the door was shut, you pulled out one of your earplugs and turned to him with a small frown on your face. “You know what, maybe I should go find a free room,” you said, mistaking Chan’s departure to be something of your presence.

Jisung quickly shook his head then, “Oh no, it’s okay. Hyung is just going out to get something to drink. Do you like banana milk, he’s getting you one of those from the vending machine in the lobby, I think? I–I can call him if you don’t want it!”

Your eyes brightened a little at his nervous state. He was mumbling his words, perhaps it was a habit of his but you found he does it whenever he gets a little anxious. Just deep little rambles and slurs, you found it quite adorable actually.

“Jisung,” you called his name, stopping him from dialing Chan’s number. He looked over at you, his wide eyes gently weakening. “I’ve ever had one before but I would be glad to try one.”

“You would. You would, yeah, that… that’s great, you–you’ll love it,” Jisung said, putting his phone down, “It taste a bit weird at first, you kind of have to try to differentiate between the milk and the banana but don’t overthink too much about it, you know? Just drink it and like, embrace both flavors together because it’s called banana milk, right, not banana and milk–”

“Jisung,” you called him again, more loudly this time, “Stop talking. You’re cute, but stop talking.”

He opened his mouth slightly, processing the compliment carelessly thrown his way. Waving his hands in the air, he repeated your words, “I’m cute? Do you think I am cute?”

You nodded nonchalantly, “Yes, you have a cute vibe. Not so much on the face though–oh! Your friend Jeongin has a cute smile. It is brilliant, I caught it when he wasn’t looking.”

There was an amused look in your face he hadn’t seen before. The closest to joy your eyes have ever been was playfulness, but this one, he believed you found him quite funny now, you might even want to laugh a little from the small quirk of your lips. And you know what? He would happily take that.

“Oh wow, someone else again?” Jisung huffed in disbelief, “You know, I have both a nice voice and a very cute smile. Look, look at these cheeks, you really can’t get them anywhere else but from me.” He smiled, pulling up the corners of his lips with his index fingers before squishing his own cheeks to prove a point.

And there it was. A puff of laughter as light as feathers and as gentle as flowers. It sounded more sardonic than ever but it wasn’t a smirk, it wasn’t an airy 'ha’ that really sounds more like an amused sigh than a laugh. It was a full-on vibrating giggle that was so light he almost didn’t catch. Thank god he stopped talking.

His eyes widened in surprise and joy, his fingers pointing at you as he jumped in his own seat. And then he was clapping his hands together like a seal, little yelps coming out of his mouth as he said, “You laughed! You laughed, I can’t believe it, you freaking laughed!”

“I was laughing at you, this is hardly funny on your part,” you said.

“Hey, that just means I was the one who made you laugh,” Jisung said, “That is not a bad thing. That is an achievement.”

“Okay? What about it is so achieving?” You asked, your brows furrowed.

“Uh, in case you don’t know, you don’t even smile, (Name).”

“Yes I do, I smile all the time when I am trying to suck it up to my targets.”

“Those aren’t genuine smile,” Jisung shook his head.

You repeated his movement mockingly, sitting up so you could face him fully, “I smile genuinely when I know how much money I will be earning.”

Jisung blinked at you, a pursed smile on his face. He couldn’t even bring himself the energy to argue back, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the fact that you kept trying to deny it. He waved his hand at you dismissively, “Whatever, (Name). I made you laugh and there’s that.”

You rolled your eyes, not at all annoyed by his stubbornness. You would tell him to enjoy it while it lasts because it was never going to happen ever again, you wouldn’t be caught dead slipping from your normal demeanor again, but seeing Jisung’s contagious (so so contagious you almost hate it) smile was honestly the most relieving thing you’ve ever experienced and you really didn’t want to disrupt this moment.

When Jisung finally noticed you staring at him, he quieted down and cleared his throat. A blush was forming on his cheeks, he could tell by the instinctive way he lowered his head to hide it from your sight. Despite what he had told himself after what happened during the end of the music show, he continued to do exactly the opposite of what he warned himself not to and he couldn’t even notice it.

He cleared his throat again, finding another topic to discuss so to distract both himself and you from his embarrassed self. Scanning his eyes across your figure, not paying much attention to the gashes across your arms anymore, he stopped at the transparent cassette player in your hand and he gestured towards it with curiosity.

“What are you listening to?”

You looked at the custom made tape in your hand, with words messily scribbled on top with a blue marker, and you shrugged, “I don’t know. A school nurse gave it to me after the emergency psychological evaluation for my roommate’s death. I never tried to look for the songs she put on there, though, I just know I really liked it.”

Jisung nodded with a hum. He eyed you carefully once, an unconscious smile playing at his lips as he watched your hazed yet focused expression as you listened to the song playing in your earphones. It was as if you were trying to listen to the lyrics so you could guess the song name, and through that, you might just be able to remember the older days where you were yet to be on the field.

He was curious if your school days were better than now? Or was it hard for you the way it was for a normal high school student? Did you have friends? Were the teachers nice? Part of him was interested in the assassination industry, his interest totally deriving from all the movies he’s watched and games he’s played. The other part of him, the bigger portion of him, just wanted to know more about you and dive deeper into your comfort zone.

To be friends. Despite it all, he wanted to be friends with you because no matter what you’ve done, you had been nothing but decent to him.

“Can I listen, if you don’t mind?” He asked then, his voice mellow as blades of grass shivering in a warm summer breeze.

You looked at him for a moment, catching his eyes boldly as you have always done. Jisung was slowly getting used to the way you tend to look into his eyes but even then, it never failed to make his heart speed up a little. It always feels like you are trying to tell him a secret when you look into his eyes, so unapproachable but so intriguing, but the general melancholy was now mixed with a tinge of trust you have developed for him.

And Jisung’s chest tightens at that, so weirdly.

Wordlessly, you stood up from the single chair and went to sit next to him before you brought the free one up for him. He happily accepted it, bringing it to his ear.

The songs were rather old, he could hear the difference in vibes and just the general tone of the melodies, but most of them were soft, quiet songs with good vocals and strong beats. Immediately, several more modern songs popped into his head that he believed would possibly be the style of music you would enjoy, slowly and surely compiling into a full playlist in his head that he was just urging to recommend them to you.

Looking up from the ground, Jisung turned to you to find you paying more attention to the table and the song than the close distance you two had accidentally granted yourselves. His eyes needed some time to adjust to your side-profile and when he did, they softened.

There were small marks on the side of your face, Jisung wasn’t quite sure from what. His hand unconsciously moved up in an attempt to touch your face but due to your natural instinct, you had grabbed a hold of his wrist and quickly snapped your head to look at him with wide, confused eyes.

Jisung breathed out a small apology then, seeing your sudden state, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what that was–I was just curious… are those scars on your face?”

You released his wrist quickly, giving him a faint nod, “Those are just acne scars. I don’t take much care of my own skin, I don’t really have the time to do that.”

His cheeks reddened in embarrassment then, fumbling with his words as he apologized repeatedly. You had to calm him down by reassuring him that you were okay with what he said, and you were completely fine with people pointing out the scars on both your face and your arms. Sometimes people are curious, you don’t plan to stop them from having that trait.

“Jisung, don’t worry about it,” you said, “You are probably just curious because you saw these, right?” You gestured towards your arms.

Jisung quieted down a little and he gave you a silent nod, his head lowered so you couldn’t see his face. You hummed, unsurprised, “A lot of people are. Do you want to know what happened?”

He slowly tipped his head up to you, his eyes wide in uncertainty as his voice came out as a hushed whisper of doubt, “Really?”

“Yeah. I lived through all of these, there is nothing to be shameful about it, just as there is nothing bad about being curious about my scars so stop giving me the worried look,” You nodded nonchalantly, “I just need to make sure you really want to hear about it because some of these are from some pretty tragic incidents.”

“Tragic as in…”

You pointed at a stitched up light red line on the back of your forearm, “I had to pretend to be homeless for a target who is a huge pedophile. He tried to kill me but I fought back, he got angry and dragged a knife across here.”

Jisung gasped gently, words of disbelief and horror being huffed out of his breath as he slowly and surely moved his hand over to yours, waiting for confirmation before he tentatively ran the tip of his fingers across the little bump line. Only with care and consideration, as if your glass skin would break at any given moment if he adds even the smallest amount of pressure.

There were so many more of these on your skin, and at the moment Jisung only wanted to get you out of it, out of this dangerous business because it absolutely broke his heart to learn that one week from now you would be heading back to the land the caused you just about everything—every ounce of your innocence, every inch of your grace, every token of your smile.

(Yet, it didn’t seem to be able to take away the kind of beauty you held with yourself whenever you stood before his eyes, Jisung thought).

“What about… what about this one?” He asked, moving his fingers across the land of your arm and stopping on top of a pit of the ocean.

He wants to know, about you and everything you’ve been through. He is going to give you the escape you didn’t think you needed. He is going to be your friend.

And he is going to love you. Fragilely, delicately, normally.

Not quite a saint for him to fall in love with a murderer, but not quite a sinner for him to choose to give all his love to a person who needs as much as they can get.

* * *

The morning music show went by quickly. Things had quieted down way more than expected by the media, all thanks to your atrocious actions towards audiences and all kinds of fabrications and exaggerations from the media. No one dared to try anything during the ending of music shows nor the back staging area in fear the masked killer would hunt them down.

“No one knows whose side you are on, you killed anyone who took out a weapon.”

You turned over to look up at the bodyguard who sat next to you in the van and you furrowed your brows a little, “Yeah? Can’t I do that?”

He sent you a slight deadpan expression, nodding in both exasperation and defeat as he nodded, “Yeah, yeah you can. I just thought maybe less work would have to be done if you just killed whoever is trying to kill the boys.”

“But I like–”

“Don’t say it, I really don’t want to hear about it,” he cut you off with a light flick to your forehead, finding the roll of your eyes and click of your tongue more amusing now that you guys have gotten more acquainted with each other.

You rubbed your forehead and leaned back against your chair, staring upwards at the top of the car. After a small moment of silence, you side-eyed him with wit displayed in the squint of your eyes before you spoke, “But I like killing peop–”

“I said don’t say it!” He turned to you abruptly, reaching his hand up to squeeze your nose so he could cut off your airway. You calmly moved your hand up to dig your nails into his hand before he quickly let you go, mumbling a string of curses under his breath.

“I was just joking,” you shrugged.

“Are you really though, are you really?”

Jisung watched the entire scene unfold before him in the backseat of the car as you all made your way to the venue of their fan-sign event. He had originally saved a seat for you, wanting to show you the little playlist he had put together just the night before and see if any of the songs struck your liking, but you ended up sitting in the row before him when you got called away by the group of bodyguards to discuss something.

He was bitter about it but he didn’t show it in an obvious way. Even if someone did notice, he would have lied about the real reason behind the pout that was permanent on his face at the moment. But he couldn’t throw a tantrum over it even if he wanted to, you were just doing your job after all.

A small hissing sound caught his attention then and he looked around to search for the voice. He leaning his head over to the window and found you glancing behind your shoulder at him through the small gap. He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow at you curiously to urge you to talk.

“Did you want to tell me something?” You asked.

“I–I did, how do you know?” He laughed a little, his hand tightening nervously around his phone.

“Come on, Jisung, you’ve been trying to approach me the whole day and I kept having to walk away or you kept being called away, and then you have this small slouchy look on your face,” you said, shoving your hand between the gap and wriggled your fingers to call for him.

Jisung moved his face closer to your hand and his brows raised funnily when you reached over to manually arch down the corners of his lips to give him a frowny face, proceeding to mimic the expression in a childish way. He swatted your hand away with a short laugh, “I don’t look like that.”

“You so do look like that,” you said, puffing out your cheeks as a display of his chubby cheeks whenever he eats or smiles. Jisung didn’t say anything, but he was smiling directly at your sudden weird antic. Seeing it made you feel light-hearted, and you regained your composure before asking him quietly, “What did you need me for?”

Jisung perked up, reaching his phone out to you. His time was finally here! He let you take his phone, still keeping his back hunched and his face close to the small gap, “I found some songs I thought you would like! I wanted you to listen to them and heart the ones you like!”

You raised an eyebrow as you scrolled down the playlist, your head tilting to the side in wonder as your eyes scanned through all the unfamiliar artists and new songs. You paused for a moment, blinking at the screen before turning to him, “You put your own songs on here?”

“Yes, yes I did,” Jisung said, looking at you with zero ounces of shame. “You better heart those songs.”

“I’m going to remove them all right away,” you said emotionlessly, clicking randomly on the phone before a small giggle passed your lips when Jisung abruptly gasped and reached out for his phone. You pulled it away from him, grinning down at him for the first time since he’s known you.

Last time, it was a short laugh. This time was a giggle and a permanent grin. Jisung was making great progress, he thought, and he was so happy he got the chance to see a genuine smile on your face, like his heart got lit on fire and your smile is the lighter that never turns off.

It was so beautiful and so delicate, he loved it.

“I am just joking! I heard all of these but I will give them all a listen again,” you said, “It is going to take some time though, there are a lot of songs here.”

“Listen to them during the fan-sign,” he urged, “I am pretty sure we are going to be fine, they are all our fans. Unless someone comes over in disguise… that would be bad. But I think they are adding more security check, so we should be okay!”

You hummed at him suspiciously. Jisung did have a point but you wouldn’t put it past the world to not fuck anything up during this week, so some caution should still be sustained. Giving him a slight nod, you confirmed to him that you would be doing as he was told, and he only flashed you a joyful smile in return.

* * *

The fan-sign event went pass quickly and safely, just as Jisung had told you back on the van. The venue slowly emptied out and the boys all headed back to the backstage area to pack up their things before leaving with the staff team.

You had long finished listening to the list of songs Jisung gave you, having had enough time to do a few re-listening to several of them for better measures of your opinion on them. His guesses weren’t entirely spot-on but there was a handful of them you found yourself leaning towards. Unlike what he told you to do, though, you did not heart all the Stray Kids song he put on the list.

Faintly giving his phone a squeeze, you headed over to another room where only a few boys were resting in and you looked around for Jisung’s shadow, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere around to corner no matter how many times you’ve turned your body.

Hyunjin, who had noticed your twisting and turning for a while now, finally decided to walk up to you and explain the situation. “Jisung went to the restroom, he will be back in a few so don’t worry about it,” he said nonchalantly.

You glanced up at him with furrowed eyebrows, “I wasn’t worried, I just have to give him back his phone.”

Hyunjin looked down at your hands and realization hit him. His lips formed a small 'o’ shape as he nodded, then he held out his hand to you, “I can take those off your hands. I’ll just put it back in his bag, meanwhile if you can, can you go check out if he’s okay? He’s been in the restroom for a while now.”

You eyes circled in alert at Hyunjin’s words. The utter lack of concern in his voice, the same ones Jisung used earlier, simply showcased just how little doubt he holds for his fans to believe that nothing would ever happen in a fan-sign event, not even the worst-case scenario where a hater attends the event in disguise.

“Call someone to come after me just in case. I’ll head over first.” You said as you handed Hyunjin the phone, turning to the door so you could head out to find Jisung. But you stopped in your tracks, only now acknowledging the fearful silence that dreaded over the room after Changbin stopped his bickering with Minho and Jeongin stopped laughing at the sidelines at his two friends.

Your mouth closed tightly and you moved to stand in front of Hyunjin, glaring at the intruder who stood by the door, a gun in his hand. That was new, but nothing out of the ordinary for you. Carefully maintaining his gaze, you stopped yourself from appearing protective of anyone and you simply put on a questioning face.

“I didn’t realize old hags can be fans of boy groups like these.”

The man raised an eyebrow at your attitude before gesturing towards Hyunjin, “You can take him if you want. I don’t want no trouble, I’m just here because some girl paid me to get that one over there.”

You turned behind you to find a stoic Minho unconsciously shifting on his seat, Changbin cupping his hand over Minho’s protectively when he realized the man was pointed at Minho. You gave yourself a second to give both three of them an eye signal, telling them not to move at all, before you turned back to face the stranger.

You shrugged with a nonchalant laugh, putting your hand on Hyunjin’s arm, “Fun, but I am only here for this one, he’s a real charmer. I’d probably keep him in my room. If you wanna kidnap Minho, I suggest you do it quickly, I think bodyguards are just working right around the corner.”

“I don’t need a stupid kid to tell me what to do,” he rolled his eyes as he walked into the room, seeing that you were already dragging Hyunjin’s unwilling body over to the door.

“I am not a stupid kid,” you retorted casually, pulling at Hyunjin as you subtly sent him a glare.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You brushed past the man, feeling your arm bruh against his jacket sleeve. The second his back was turned on you, you released Hyunjin’s wrist and turned around. Fishing out a dagger in your pocket was easy peasy, so was stabbing the man from the back of the neck. You let out a grunt as you did so, pulling away quickly and watching as the man slumped down on the floor.

Your eyes were empty as you watched the blood pool out from beneath him. “Three forty-nine,” was all you said before you quickly turned around to head for the restroom Hyunjin told you Jisung was in.

No one was around the corner but the hallways were eerily quiet, brightly lit yet no one was walking around. There was not one lick of human presence around this place, and truth be told, the back of your neck was slowly prickling with extreme caution and nervousness as you rushed down the place.

Damn it, you usually never get this agitated about these kinds of things, but it was Jisung this time. That might have scared you a little, you could tell from your sweaty palm and fast-paced steps.

Finally making your way to the restroom, you placed your palms flat against the surface and leaned your ear close to the door in an attempt to hear inside but it was to no avail. Everything just sounded like the shaking of air and the twirling of vent fans. Biting your lower lip with impatience, you moved away and reached for the doorknob instead. Just as you were about to turn the metal knob to see if the door would open, a click sounded from the other side.

The door was unlocked.

Your gaze hardened immediately and your quick reflexes made you raise your bloodied knife instantly. As soon as the door swung open, you wasted no time in jamming the tip to the girl’s neck, twisting it to make sure it reached deep enough to end her life, quick and soundless besides the scorching of blood flowing past your alarmingly steady hand.

“Three-fifty,” your head perking up, you glanced around to room and accessed your three targets staring at you with wide eyes and Jisung, whose back was pressed against the cold wall, his hands bound together with ropes.

He could feel his chest relax when he saw you bursting through the door. If he wasn’t so scared and alert at his surroundings, he would probably see a faint halo glow around your head for coming to his rescue. His eyes called out for your name when his voice ceased to work properly, you could hear the hoarseness of them, teary and loud as he attempted to reach out for you even with his bound hands.

You growled under your breath after seeing Jisung’s state and you turned to the three other people in the restroom, finding it almost hilarious that you could recognize them from the fan-sign event.

It’s either you hate more than you love, which wasn’t enough, or you love too much, which would only blind you into all levels of delusions. Either way, what is love good for? Nothing, absolutely nothing.

“Jisung!” You called then, not looking at him as you lunged yourself at the attacker, “Run!”

He sucked in a breath, standing up weakly and scooting out from the side as you kept the three people occupied. He tugged at the rope around his hands, wincing when someone fell from behind him and caused him to trip on thin air. The fear struck his heart like drums, pounding and pounding so much he almost couldn’t hear the sound of punches being thrown or blades cutting through the air.

He turned around, his eyes widening just in time to see you get slapped across the face. A pained gasp left his lips then, his eyes physically watering this time as he took into account what you were doing for him and what he wasn’t doing for you. Turning head to his hands, his moved and bent his fingers as much as he could to reach the careless end of the knot, tugging at it desperately in hopes that it would fall off so he could give you assistance.

Your brows furrowed in faint annoyance when you could still see Jisung’s figure at the corner of the restroom, hovering by the corner suspiciously. During the process of the diversion of your attention, the girl took the chance to grab your hair and yanked at it harshly.

You pursed your lips, feeling the thrill rush up your lungs at the harsh pull before you regained your senses and moved your hand up to dig both your nails into her arm, pulling at it in a pinching motion that gave her an opportunity to let out a terrifyingly shrill scream. She didn’t let go of you, however, instead, she simply reached her other hand up and wrapped them around your throat.

Classic, how classic.

You grunted, trying to pry her hand off both your head and your throat as you felt a shortage of air slowly creeping up. Fortunately for you, Jisung had already loosened the binding of his wrists and he had grabbed a broom from the back of the door and smacked it across the girl’s head so hard her eyes rolled back and she fainted before you.

Jisung dropped the broom, not given the chance to have a breather when someone from the ground moved and grabbed his ankle to pull him down. You immediately moved over to grabbed a hold of the person’s shoulders, throwing them away from Jisung and picking the poor boy up by his collar.

“(Name), behind you!”

You turned around, just in time to catch a knife flying at your face. Smacking your hand downwards, you hit the person’s hand away from its original path and caused the knife to jab directly at your thigh. You didn’t quite scream in pain, having mastered the art of letting out heavy growls to display your irritation and anger.

Holding the person’s hand, you forcefully pulled the knife away from your flesh, using their confusion as a chance to catch them off guard by kicking them in the stomach. When they stumbled back, you moved forward despite the pain shooting from your injury and stabbed the person.

You moved away then, slumping onto the floor in exhaustion. Pants left your lips in huffs and puffs as you spoke, “Three… fuck, whatever. Just three.”

Jisung quickly knelt down next to you, his eyes trained on your thigh. Panic was covering his mind as he stared at your injury, all the words he’s ever learned mixing together to create paragraphs of incoherent sentences he didn’t even have the strength to voice it out loud. He was so worried and so scared, and his anxiety didn’t seem to be going away after seeing your state.

“Han Jisung!” You yelled his name, he could hear the anger in your voice and he shrunk back a little. You eyed him with a glare, a really harsh glare even he was surprised to see from you, “I told you to run! Why did you stay here, damn it?”

His brows furrowed, “What? Am I supposed to just leave you here?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah you are,” you said.

He shook his head immediately, unable to fathom how you even manage to utter those words to him. “I can’t do that, I will never leave someone behind like that,” he said.

“Well, you should next time, when something like this happens. I will handle it for you,” you said.

“Handle it for me–(Name), you got stabbed!”

“Because you were blocking me, Jisung,” you emphasized, “I had it under control. I could have walked out of here fine and unharmed if you had just left when I fucking told you to–”

“I will never leave without you.”

His voice was so stern you got goosebumps. How could he just declare something like that to people? You rolled your eyes, “Fucking hell, Jisung, why do you have to so stubborn?”

“Because I care about you! Why is that so hard to understand?” He snapped, slapping his own thighs as he leaned forward to look at you with desperate eyes. You could see the tears brimming behind them, knowing very well he was blaming himself for what happened to you, and you couldn’t do anything else but relax within his presence.

You leaned against the wall, looking at Jisung with a tired and hazy gaze that contrasted your previous tone. Gently shaking your head, you reached out for his hand and he took it quickly, holding it tight, “Thank you, Jisung. But you can’t care about people in times like those. Remember to always save yourself, that is what my teacher taught me.”

He sniffed, glimmering droplets finally letting themselves out of its beautiful shelters. He shook his head again, tightening his hands around yours in a trembling manner as he spoke in a hushed voice, whispering if you may, “I can’t do that because you didn’t leave me either. You stayed here for me.”

You laughed dryly, “I was hired to keep you safe.”

Jisung looked up at you through his bangs, choosing to shake his head a little to move them to the side instead of removing his grip from your hands. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be letting go for a while. His eyes brimmed with something so exquisite you couldn’t quite explain, you just knew that from that mere gaze, you were fully convinced you didn’t just save him because it was your job.

It was so much more than that. It was something about the way you can freely laugh when you are with Jisung, the way he stutters shyly around you as if you are likable, the way he disregarded your identity and chose to get close to you, to embrace you for what is in your heart instead of what was taught to your brain.

“Jisung,” you breathed out, “Next time when I tell you to run, please run.”

He gulped, lowering his head gently, “Only if I can run away with you too.”

Warmth spread through every surface of your unholy heart, cleansing of your sins and sorrows with such simple care. It was something you’ve never felt before and you, strangely, loved it. It made you feel safe, normal.

Here you two were, sitting in a pool of blood, hands tightly interlocked together.

And you realized love can be good for so many things, so so many things. Especially when it is with someone like Han Jisung.


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hell week, or so-called as the idol purge week, is coming up. and stray kids hired an assassin to be one of their bodyguards through out this hellish week. jisung, particularly, seemed to have developed some interest in this assassin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: killing, blood, character death, let’s ignore the fact that felix never appeared in this story, this is rather long so my proofreading may be lacking!

After being discovered in the restroom, Jisung found it almost unbearable for him that he had to be forced away from you so you could be brought to a medical center to treat the wound on your thigh. His grip on your hand had tightened as he saw that the car was approaching closer and closer to the hospital, but his hands were gladly steadier than before and his mind had calmed down drastically.

Seeing the pure chaos that ensued in the restroom, their manager decided that it would be best for them to put a pause to their daily practices and instead head back to the dorm for a well-needed rest, to put past everything they’ve witnessed and everything they’ve been through this day.

The boys made no complaint about the schedule change. After heading back to the dorm, they found themselves unable to move into their rooms but instead chose to all gather together in the living room, all spread around the couch and on the floor. Arms were tangled and minds were dazed in disbelief as they listened to each other talk in detail of what happened, to them and to you.

Hyunjin hadn’t expected to feel so shaken up by what you did right before his eyes, after all, he was present during the music show where Hell Week started and you had been just a few steps down in the audience area. But today was different, he supposed, today was so much different.

He saw it, he heard it, he felt it. Everything. The way you so easily lied to the stranger’s face, keeping him as a fake ally until you had to immediately kill him with no hesitation, and you stared at his bleeding body with a pair of hollow eyes for a brief second. It was nauseating for him to think about, the blood on your blade and the count of your kills.

After that, it was morality conflict that messed up with his head because Hyunjin—and Minho, and just about everyone in the room—knew for a fact that you did it for him. You stepped in front of him first, acting on your protective instinct, he assumed, even if you didn’t, you still tried to shield him away from harm’s sight. And he was grateful for that, he really was. He wasn’t sure how many people would do that for him, be it a hired guard or not.

But the killing—the merciless killing! That was just sickening, so sickening Hyunjin would choose to never think about it if he could. And just like that, he was caught in a dilemma that Jisung had already gotten himself out of since day one, it seemed.

The boys weren’t able to understand at first, how Jisung could so easily brush past everything and accept you with open arms. But come to think of it, Jisung was the only person who’s really seen you for who you are. Your true nature, something none of them had ever bothered to search for, all except for Jisung.

“What is it about them that you like so much, Jisung?”

He turned his head over to Hyunjin, finding a pair of curious eyes looking right back at him and he squinted his eyes a little. Hyunjin wanted to know, for his own sake, he wanted to get rid of the little fire of conflict in his chest so he asked Jisung for something none other has ever known: something good about you.

“I don’t know. I just like hanging out with (Name). They’re smart and honest,” Jisung shrugged, playing with his fingers a little as he shrunk on the couch to make himself appear even smaller, “And they don’t hold any high expectations on people and that makes me relax a lot. I don’t have to constantly try to put up a face in front of them because they don’t care. I really like that.”

The boys nodded. Jisung’s words didn’t help them much, those were traits they could hear but couldn’t feel unless they’ve been there to hang out with you physically. But they do trust Jisung’s judgment—not fully but they believed Jisung wouldn’t be completely irrational about this either—so they nodded, hoping to see you from a brighter point of view instead of having their opinions kept lurking within the shadows.

A sudden silence covered them as the boys busied themselves with thoughts of their own. It was rather comfortable, peaceful too if they would, with only the shifting of bodies and small friction of clothes rubbing against each other. Cuddles was done and fingers were played with gingerly. There was something about the acknowledgment that all of them were present in one single space, all unharmed and safe for the moment.

Being with each other so quietly like this made them feel less anxious about the monsters in their head, and that kind of tranquility in the mind was very much appreciated.

A knock sounded from the door then and, unable to bring themselves back from the moment of feathery gentleness immediately, the boys all stayed where they were until another more impatient knock came through the door. Then they finally perked up with alert, looking at the entrance with eyes sharper than that of cats.

“Get your lazy asses off the couch and open the door for me!”

Minho was the first one to crack out a chuckle, finding the small breakage of your yelling voice more humorous than ever, especially after he considered the situation—how you managed to sound so casual right after being discharged from the medical center. It was quite something to be admired about, your lack of dwelling in horrible things that happened to you.

And then everyone was laughing as you insisted on banging your hand against the door until you were sure you woke the neighbors up. Jisung rushed over to the door, unlocking it before he almost violently swung it open to reveal you standing before him with crutches on your side and white bandages around the wound on your thigh.

You flashed Jisung an annoyed look but he only smiled softly, feeling extremely relieved that you were back home safe and treated. The traumatic scenes back in the restroom still flashed before his eyes before he saw you, and then it was just the aftermath of it, the point of his memory where you two were both seated on the ground with an iron grip on each other’s hands. It was a drowsy time but Jisung could remember every moment of it somehow.

Without another word, he opened his arms and walked forward so he could wrap your form in a tight hug, putting his chin over your shoulder as if locking his head in place.

The other boys approached you two, for the first time ignoring Jisung’s bold action. Coming after that was a series of questions regarding your health, your emotional state, and a string of gratitude and apology. Your brows raised for a moment, unable to process the sudden wave of affection and consideration received, then they furrowed a little as you glared at the boys before you.

“Did you guys do something?” You asked skeptically.

“Uh… no…. why?” Chan asked, smiling awkwardly at you.

You pointedly looked at Minho and your eyes shifted to Changbin, who looked away in embarrassment when he realized the slight caution evident in your eyes. You returned your gaze to Chan then, replying to him, “You guys are being nice to me. Jisung? Normal. Brownie number one and two, adding blonde over there? Suspicious but alright. The rest of you? Something’s up.”

Jisung pulled away with a choked out chuckle, amused at what you said. His arms were still circled around your neck but his grip was loose, finding it very endearing and glad that you considered him to be an affectionate person, especially towards you. He was really doing to most to make you feel comfortable and included and he was happy to know that you felt the most of all he had been giving you.

“They’re just thankful that you saved me. They know they can’t live without me so you did them a huge favor,” he joked, smiling at you with fondness you were too unfocused on him to see as you were too busy trying to figure out the real reason behind the kindness shown by the small group that stood before you.

“And we are sorry for not having treated you nicely,” Changbin started, lowering his head a little before he mustered up the courage to look at you in the eye.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion, your brows slightly furrowing not because of what Changbin was telling you but because Jisung was clinging onto you just a little too much for your injured thigh and your crutches to handle. You shifted a little, trying to angle yourself in a way that makes the hugging possible instead of telling Jisung to back off your torso so you could stand properly.

“You guys are nice to me though,” you pointed out with certainty, “Compared to the kind of treatment I receive on a daily basis before I came here? This is great, you guys are fine.”

“Well, we don’t feel like we are,” Chan said, “And if we don’t feel like we are, we’re not doing the most, which we should have since the beginning.”

You grumbled a little, flashing Chan a faint smile of gratitude to stall off some time for you to handle Jisung for just a moment. His arms held your neck tightly, his face has returned back to the crook of your neck, still wanting to establish the state of ‘not letting you go just yet.’

“Jisung–Jisung, I get it, you miss me. But can you let go for a minute so I can walk inside and sit down?” You asked, letting go of one of your crutches so you could pat his back in a comforting way, hinting to him that his affection was very much welcomed, just not at this moment when stitches lined up your wound and you were asked to stand with two metal sticks.

He quickly moved away then, moving over to pick up your crutch before handing it back to you. The others opened up a path for you to walk in, all seemed to carefully observe your movements just in case you needed any assistance.

You finally sat down on the couch, sighing in content at the way the material slumped along with you. Closing your eyes in relaxation, you popped them open a while after only to find everyone staring over at you worriedly. You furrowed your brows in faint discomfort. While the concern was much appreciated, receiving so much attention from multiple people just wasn’t what you were used to.

“You know, I don’t do the whole… staring thing.” You said politely, “So can you all leave me alone for a while? That includes you, Jisung.”

The boys quickly eased up their tense eyes, some looking away and some clearing their throat. And, as you requested, one by one they kindly left the scene with nothing short of a hushed 'take care’ and 'thank you.’

Jisung was left alone with you again, sitting on the space next to you with an obvious pout on his face. You could see that he was refusing to leave your side, a move similar to the one he did this afternoon, and you wanted to sigh both in annoyance and warmth at his stubbornness.

You supposed you couldn’t quite blame him for wanting to keep you company, he certainly wanted to be around people after almost being taken away, not to mention you who just had a knife jammed to your thighs? You understood where he was coming from, but you just really needed some alone time at the moment to clear your head, so you placed a hand on Jisung’s thigh gently and you gave him a few comforting pats.

“How are you, Jisung?” You asked, smiling up at him after you leaned down to see his lowered face.

Jisung unwillingly met your eyes as you spoke, the pout on his face dimming but the pleading in his eyes magnified strongly. He shrugged without energy, the shaking of his shoulders displayed his exhaustion, “I’m okay, I guess.”

“You guess?” You hummed, “Did you talk to anyone about what happened?”

He nodded, “I talked to everyone. Did you talk to anyone?”

“Yeah, I talked to the doctor.”

“No, I mean friends, people who are close to you,” he corrected, shaking his head very slightly. All his movements were small, micro-level as if all his stamina was drained and he has yet to get enough time to restore himself back in place. Your heart clenched at how out-of-place Jisung seemed, missing the boy who always smiled at you and told you everything would be okay.

Perhaps you just haven’t seen enough of him yet, and you didn’t mind seeing him at his lowest. You would embrace him with loving arms if he ever does come crying to you. You simply hoped to keep him at his highest, that was all.

“I don’t have anyone like that,” you told him, your gaze unwavering despite seeing how a flash of pain flickered before his eyes at your words. It struck him down like a tidal wave, drowning his hypersensitive senses and causing him to overthink your words.

You… don’t have those? What about him?

“I only have you, Jisung,” you added, “And I just came back here so no, I haven’t talked to anyone yet.”

Jisung’s shoulders slumped as a silent exhale escaped the light parting of his mouth. He touched your hand that still sat on his thigh carefully, giving you a weak squeeze. There was a certain dutiful feeling that came with the knowledge that he is the only person in your life you could talk to, and he wanted nothing more than to act on it, even if it might annoy you just a little.

“You can talk to me,” he cooed out mellowly, raising his head to let you two be on eye-level easier. “I want to talk to you, I want to know if you’re okay.”

You subconsciously flipped your hand around, letting Jisung’s palm touch yours and allowing your fingers to fall loosely within the intimate gaps. He didn’t try to take your hand fully, just letting the contact rest comfortably on his lap. All you could think about was how feathery Jisung was touching you and how no one has ever touched you like this before.

“I will talk to you, but for now I really need some time alone,” you insisted, letting him down gently, with a faint smile that spoke comfort, “And take a hot shower because I smell of blood.”

Jisung had only noticed it after you mentioned it to him. He sniffed automatically and grimaced at the rusty, metallic smell ripping off your body yet he hadn’t pulled away just yet. Returning back to his usual facial expression—one of sorrow, you thought—he looked at you and nodded, “Promise we can talk after you clean yourself up?”

You nodded, “I promise. We can even talk the whole night if you want to.”

A smile slowly made its way to his face. Love boosted in his chest, a chaste kind of love, a strong tug of care he felt for the person sitting in front of him, and Jisung leaned in so he would wrap his arms around your shoulders again. You felt his chin pressing against the back of your shoulder and his hair tickled the side of your face.

Your reflection showed in the balcony glass door and for the first time, you saw how different you looked—happier, brighter, emotional. There were more smile creases on your eyes, your lips learned to arch up and down, your throat could finally bob in laughter.

How miraculous it was, that merely one person could do this to another.

All they had to do was care enough, all you had to do was let loose.

You wrapped your arms around Jisung, returning the hug with the same amount of force.

Jisung giggled a little at your reaction, “You hug me back the second time? This is nice.”

“I think so too,” you smiled, your voice muffled.

“Do you need help to walk to the bathroom? I can carry you there,” he asked then, pulling away a little as he stared at you, both questioningly and concerned.

You looked into his eyes, the way he bravely stared back into yours, the way his eyes showed no malice and calculative wit sent you unfamiliar chills down your spine. It was like you realize it once again who Han Jisung is. Who he is, is someone who gives so much shit about you, someone who picked your soul instead of your actions.

Who Han Jisung is, is your friend. Your first friend and your only friend.

You couldn’t quite wrap your head around why he would ever choose to be friends with someone like you. Not just because of who you are but because of the constant danger you have to put yourself through. He could lose you any minute, any second, and if he cares enough he would be devastated.

You couldn’t understand why he would choose to befriend a loaded gun like you, perhaps he was reckless, stupid even, but you were glad he did. You were so glad Jisung did.

Confidence and boldness flood into your chest, mixing with the unapologetic love—a love you decided you didn’t need an explanation for—you held for him. You stared at him with longing for a very brief moment before you suddenly grabbed his collar, as fairyly as possible, and you moved closer to land a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Jisung.”

You stood up right after you reached down to your bag and picked up some comfortable clothes, standing up quickly only to feel a sharp pain to your thigh. But it was nothing you have never endured before. You hissed gently, quickly waddling your way out of the scene and into the bathroom.

Jisung was left stunned on the couch, his eyes wide in shock as he tried his best to relive the same moment, again and again, making sure he hadn’t been hallucinating it all. His hand reached out to touch his cheek, a shy smile gradually forming into the shape of a moon, and it too shone as bright as the pure white light reflected in the sky.

He could hardly breathe, adrenaline took his hands and started spinning in circles with him in his land of memories as he repeated the feeling. It might sound fake but Jisung has never been kissed before, definitely not because someone appreciated his efforts to make them feel included.

And he loved it.

And you’re welcome. You’re very welcomed.

* * *

The night has gone dark hours ago. Like you had promised, after you cleaned yourself up, you headed back to the living room and sat down with Jisung. His main goal was to talk about how you have been feeling the past three days and about everything that led up to this moment, all the while trying to hide the pink blush that threatened to creep up his cheeks whenever he thought about the cheek kiss you gave him, but the conversation didn’t quite go that way.

For the first few moments it did, you were discussing light-heartedly—as you wished—about your well-being, which was mostly just you being okay with all the blood and injuries due to where you were brought to and raised in. Sooner or later, the subject gradually changed into something more daily, something like the weather but less awkward than that, and you two laughed and giggled and smiled like nothing bad went down this afternoon.

Chan had to come out and urge Jisung to head to bed due to early schedule the next day, giving you a small tip of his head as his gaze scanned through you who sat on the couch with your injured leg stretched out and the other propped up for support. Jisung did after a bit of convincing from you, still wanting to make sure you were genuinely without a cloud of worry in your chest before he could go to sleep.

Midnight approached quickly, the moonlight shining brighter than the sun most likely because you seemed to resonate with its silent tranquility more than the sun’s radiant cheers. You couldn’t sleep, not because your mind was filled with monsters but just because you couldn’t.

You had shifted around on the couch for quite a while, slowly and surely to ease the pain of your thigh, and each position brings you a new reason not to fall asleep—you felt uncomfortable here, you felt uncomfortable there, the wind is too loud, the moon is too bright. At last, you settled, with a groan, down into a position where you laid on your back and could easily look up at the ceiling.

It wasn’t all that special but it was comfortable enough for you to close your eyes and feel like you were about to fall asleep. Perhaps the more you trick yourself into thinking you are sleepy, the more you will actually want to sleep. It didn’t work but you kept your eyes shut anyway.

The floor creaked during the middle of your mind twirling session and you snapped your eyes open, very ready to stand up and defend yourself from whatever or whoever it was. Turning your head to the side, you found a familiar ruffle of dark hair and a pair of drowsy warm eyes staring at you.

Jisung stood by the door, his eyes half-opened and his back hunched down carelessly. You let your guard down immediately, seeing that it was just your friend sleepily standing by the door, and you slumped back down onto the couch with a relieved sigh.

He stood by the door for an abnormally long amount of time, staring straight ahead with squinted eyes as if he was trying to look for something. Your mind was starting to get a little anxious at his lack of movement and lack of words, but soon enough he turned his head over to you and he tilted his head a fraction.

“(Name)?” He called out, “You’re not sleeping?”

You shook your head, “No. I can’t sleep.”

Jisung hummed with the back of his throat, nodding gently at you before he moved his head around to scan the dark surroundings. He could clearly see your figure on the couch, thanks to the moon, but other than the area near the coffee table, everywhere was eerily lit. Abandoning his thirst for a glass of water after a knocked-out sleep, he turned around wordlessly and headed back to where he came from.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion but decided that you shouldn’t be questioning his motives at a time like this. He was tired and he had been through hell the afternoon. If he wanted to go back to sleep, you would let him do so without any further questions.

Putting your head back on the pillow, you resumed your sport of staring at the ceiling with closed eyes and hopefully, insomnia would leave you in the presence of its mercy and actually let you head to sleep. Blowing raspberry out of your mouth after a few seconds of static silence flowing through your ears, Jisung appeared to come back into the living room with a phone in his hand and a pair of brighter eyes.

You looked at him, not bothering to sit up anymore, and you asked incredulously when he approached your side, “What are you doing?”

“Staying here with you–(Name), can you move your body up just a little, please?” He asked, setting his phone down on your tummy and placing his hands flat against the back of your shoulders.

“What, why? I don’t want to move, this position is comfortable,” you whined lightly yet you moved nonetheless.

Jisung carefully brought his legs up to the couch, setting himself down behind you before he extended his legs to let them lay on either side of your figure. You turned to look behind your shoulder at him, watching as he fluffed the pillow a few times before hitting his back against it with a content groan.

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he opened them only a fraction, lazily looking at you through his lashes. When you couldn’t be sure what you should do in this situation, being trapped in between his legs, Jisung arched an amused brow and he raised his arms up to beckon you over to him.

“What?” You asked.

“What do you mean 'what’? Come over here, my whole chest is open for you. I don’t understand what you don’t understand!” He said dramatically as he gestured towards himself, still managing to keep his voice down low so no one else could hear him speak under this dead silent night.

You glanced at him with blinking eyes. His chest muscle somehow bulging through faint lines on his white shirt, making your cheeks tremble unwillingly. It wasn’t like you’ve never seen muscles before, you’ve laid your eyes on some very well-trained bodies throughout the years, what makes Han stupid Jisung so special?

“I don’t understand why you would want me to do that,” you pointed out with disbelief, trying to move away from him but deciding it was time for yourself to listen to the throbbing pain on your thigh.

“Because I want you to go to sleep,” he said as a matter of factly.

You continued to stare at him doubtfully, “I will, but do you have to do this? I can fall asleep on my own!”

Jisung pouted more as your sentence went on, taking in your words with full offense. His arms dropped to the side, his bottom lip jutted out childishly as he hardened his gaze at you pointedly, almost as if he was urging you to follow along with him, “Well, I can’t, so help me!”

“How?” You asked in mock exasperation.

“Cuddle me, damn it! Or do you need me to pull you down here myself?” He replied demandingly, his once hoarse voice springing into a more lively tone. His face was pulled into a look of playful annoyance, further tempting you to listen to him.

“Cuddle?” You repeated the word, the sound of it foreign on your tongue and the idea of such a sweet act running in questioning circles in your brain.

It took a while for Jisung to understand what your confusion meant. It seemed like you really didn’t know how cuddling should go, which he supposed should be understandable due to your lack of chances to ever experience one or talk about one. He sighed in defeat, but mostly it was just the aching in his chest from thinking about all the love you’ve never received.

“Just come here, trust me,” he spoke quietly, his voice much softer and much more endearing. His hand reached out to you and his fingers fiddled with the side of your shirt, tugging at you as he pleaded shamelessly. “Lay down on me.”

And you did, with Jisung’s careful guide and with a bit of hesitation. You scooted back up against him before you let yourself lean down until you felt your head hit his shoulder and your back pressed up against his chest. You gulped then, mindless but still alert at the proximity between the both of you—how his arms automatically went around your waist to keep you in place, how you could feel the heaving of his chest against the spots on your back, how his breath directly fanned against your hair.

You didn’t quite mind the distance. If anything you really liked it.

Moving his hand in front of you, Jisung beckoned his hand and you returned him his phone. He kept his hand before your face, turning on his phone as he did so. You watched as he keyed in his passcode and returned back to where he was before he dozed off into sleep.

“Oh right, I was…mmm…” he hummed as he read through the screen, finding it rather embarrassing to have to tell you he searched himself up before he went to sleep. Quickly scrolling down to the bottom where the article’s comments were, Jisung let his eyes scan through the upvotes and downvotes briefly before he swiped away from the app and headed back to his home screen.

You let out a light chuckle when you saw his home screen—a picture of Minho sleeping with his mouth open, most possibly taken secretly—with your index finger raised lightly to point at it. Hearing your tired laughter, Jisung let out a heartfelt chuckle himself too as he swiped to an empty page so you could see clearly the glory that was Minho’s unguarded sleeping face.

“Does he know this is your home screen?” You asked.

He shook his head, “No. But I think I have to change it soon because I might just forget about having this and let him use my phone one day.”

You nodded your head, agreeing with him on his statement regarding the kind of forgetfulness only he would have. Silently, you continued to watch as Jisung pressed on the gallery app on his phone and proceeded to scroll down the lines of pictures.

“I actually have an ugly picture of Changbin-hyung that I can use,” he huffed out, looking through the blocks quickly as his thumb relentlessly swiped across the corner of the screen.

You were seeing flashes of colors, often finding yourself catching a more questionable picture yet not having the energy to open your mouth and ask Jisung to stop in his tracks so you could open it up. You were too exhausted, it has been a really long day, and your sleepiness seemed to be coming along eagerly within the presence of Jisung’s warming hospitality.

“He can kick your ass too,” you mumbled.

“Changbin-hyung? He can’t kick my ass, he won’t do it. He is so soft,” he snorted.

“Really? His arms say otherwise though, I believe,” you pointed out.

Jisung rolled his eyes up at the ceiling, an annoyed look gracing his face for just a brief tick of the clock before he, as punishment or whatever it was, wrapped his arms around you tighter to pull you up by the waist and bumped his chin against the top of your head in forms of little jabs.

“You talk about someone else every single time! Why do you do this to me, (Name)! I am your best friend, I am supposed to be the best in your eyes!” He scolded.

Your giggles engulfed him like a blanket of achievement, breathing fulfillment into his soul as he relished in the rare sound of your joyful voice and the acknowledgment that he made you this way, he was the reason behind those precious jumps of your voice.

“Okay! Okay! I won’t do it anymore, I promise you!” You said, reaching your hand up to put a pause to his small attacks.

Jisung stopped at the touch of your hands, the blinding smile on his face was permanent now that you seemed to have completely let yourself loose with him as you two laid among the starry night. His hand moved to grab a hold of yours and he let the entanglement drop to the side of your tummy.

“I’m sorry about your thigh,” he muttered after a while, breaking the silence after a heated debate in his head on whether he wanted to ruin this breathtakingly quiet moment where none of you spoke a single word, but your entwined hands conveyed thousands of emotions no other has felt. “It should have been me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure to why Jisung was choosing to blame himself for something he had no control over and only knowing that you wouldn’t want him to put himself through such emotional turmoil. Shaking your head, you tightened your grip on his hand, “Don’t be. I am supposed to protect you. I want to protect you… after everything you gave me.”

You could almost feel his eyes widened in curiosity, and instead of answering him the unasked question lingering in his head, you decided to simply nuzzle the side of your face to his chest and said, “Goodnight, Jisung.”

Jisung tilted his head to the side, his mind still set on the words you have just told him. He couldn’t understand how he has given you anything that could ever amount to the feelings you’ve given him the privilege to feel, something that made you feel the need to protect him instead of waving the matter off as a job policy.

“Wait, don’t sleep yet, I have so much to ask you!” He whispered, glancing down at you as he did so.

Those light snores of yours waved next to his ears, telling him that you had already fallen into a deep slumber within the comfort of his embrace, and his heartbeat increased by just the slightest. This wasn’t quite how he imagined the post-midnight session would turn out but he wasn’t complaining much about it either because you were getting the rest you deserved and he got the chance to hold you in his arms freely.

It wasn’t like he was looking for a chance like that, though, don’t be mistaken.

(Jisung was indeed looking for a chance like that.)

Jisung cranked his neck so he could see your sleeping face better. His gaze softening gradually to an impossible amount when he saw how peacefully unbothered you were, how unguarded you were. Gentleness was held within the palms of his fingers as he ran them across the surface of your cheek before letting his hand rest around your waist.

“Goodnight,” he hummed fondly, hugging your sleeping form closer to him before he slowly dozed off to sleep, his eyes closing without a lick of the idea that this was the very reason why you want to protect him.

Because he treats you with care, because you could fall asleep with both your eyes closed when you’re with him. Because he made you feel peaceful, and he made you feel loved.

* * *

Jisung woke up to him being alone on the couch. His first instinct was to scramble about on the soft surface which he had slept in, the emptiness that stayed atop of his chest bringing him a surprise awakening in the morning. His eyes were yet to be able to register the sight of you sitting on the floor right before the couch, turning around to look at him with a worried gaze when you felt him move around on his spot.

“Jisung,” you called out, putting a hand on his leg to stop him from moving around. When he finally turned his head to look at you, realization hit him quick and he relaxed from his agitated state. Seeing that his tense expression finally softened up, you let yourself smile a little before turning back to your laptop, “What was that about?”

He huffed out a sigh. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what that was all about either. He just suddenly got scared, that was all. He had you in his arms the whole night, the sudden lack of placeholder tapped in between his legs seemed to have overwhelmed his senses by a lot, and he was afraid of your departure when he didn’t want that to come so soon. But he knew you are going to leave at the end of the week anyway so it made no sense to him why he would feel so bumped out about that.

“I–I don’t know. What are you doing so early? We don’t have anything until like… two more hours later?” He asked, changing the topic quickly as he placed a hand on his forehead to feel himself cool down. Turning his head over to you, he eyed your laptop with a raised eyebrow. He was never too sure what you were doing at on there and he probably wouldn’t want to know.

“Looking up the people I killed yesterday. I remember their faces and I was just finding them through profile pictures,” you said, turning around to look at him, “They are–well, they were your fans. The crazy ones, but honestly, with a week like this, how many of them aren’t?”

“They–STAY? They’re STAYs?” Jisung uttered out in disbelief, half sitting up from the couch and half staring into your laptop. “They tried to kidnap me!”

“Understandable. Horrible but understandable. If the natural odds are never gonna be in their favor, they will manually create them,” you shrugged as if the planning of his kidnapping was the most normal thing in the world to discuss early in the morning. “They saw an opportunity and they took it. You just happened to be in the picture. They really could have fallen in love with anyone else!”

You observed the expressions Jisung made within the span of seconds after you confirmed to him the very own people who claimed to love him the most did, in fact, snuck backstage, cornered him in a restroom, tied him up with robes, and tried to bring him to god knows where. 

His face morphed into shock, and then hesitation, and the doubt, and back to shock. That to you seemed like he was still latching onto the last ray of faith he held for his fans, for him to still be able to see them as innocent people who only wanted the best for him and Stray Kids.

“Hey, think on the bright side, not all of your fans are like that!” You faked a cheer, trying to lighten up the moon when you saw just how impacted Jisung was. “Those three yesterday probably just takes up, like, a portion of your fans.”

Jisung’s lips arch downwards as he looked away, “Yeah but they still exist.”

You blinked. That line usually works. That was supposedly the impenetrable excuse within the community, so you’ve seen. But you supposed, Jisung experienced the bad portion first hand so you couldn’t really expect him to just smile through it and let it all go.

“Ah well, people like to say that to gain a sense of righteousness and pretend the wrong doesn’t need to be fixed as long as the good is still here,” you said, a little pointedly but also a little nonchalantly, as if none of what goes online was ever your problem (they really _aren’t_ your problem). “That’s how the bad overruns the good, let me tell you.”

“Just… don’t worry about it, okay?” You said, “It won’t be your problem after this week. They’re gonna have their own fights, you are gonna have… um… I don’t know what you’re gonna have but you are going to be just fine, alright Jisung?”

His eyes were fixed on the surface of the couch, his brows furrowed in disappointment and betrayal. You almost wanted to sigh in defeat at how hung up he was about this, having never been too emotional over many things yourself, but somehow you let yourself be quiet within the presence Jisung’s silent, messy mind.

Clutching the side of his thigh, Jisung shook his head a little before he turned to you, “A STAY stabbed you… because you were trying to protect me….” His head started to bob a little, his guilt sending him trembles throughout his body as he recalled the event yesterday. “Oh god… this is my fault. It–it is all my fault.”

“Hey, hey, Jisung no, nuh–uh,” you placed a hand on top of his then, quickly kneeling up despite the aching feeling on your flesh. Your expression wavered not one bit as you focused all your attention on Jisung, who was close to crying his guilt out to ask for your forgiveness.

You squeezed his hand once and called his name, but he couldn’t answer. So you removed your hand and instead reached both of them out to cup his cheeks in your hands, pulling him towards your face close enough for him to scream out a shy yelp as his eyes rounded at your sudden movement and the sudden proximity between you both.

“Look at me, Jisung.”

He already was.

“None of this happened because of you. What they did was their choice. They couldn’t get it over their delusional head that nothing special was ever going to happen and they chose to go after you. You didn’t make them do it, they did it,” you said firmly, urging him to nod along with you as you spoke, “Stop blaming yourself for the chaos they caused, stop apologizing for the mistakes they made, stop bagging the consequences they left. They look up to you and they support you, that’s it, that’s on them. You don’t owe them shit.”

Jisung stared at you with his wide and teary eyes. Plenty of people have tried to tell him that before too but that was never really the case. They, and you, could never understand the pressure that came with being an idol and all kinds of circumstances they have to endure. Honestly, it wasn’t really your place to tell him whether he should blame himself or not, because maybe he has to or else the public would go insane.

“I wish I can do that,” he whispered, holding onto your hands now, for moral support perhaps. He gently shook his head after a moment, finding it hard to give you an explanation. That would really take a long time, having to go deep into the philosophy between fans and celebrities and everyone standing in between. So he just repeated his words, softer this time, “I wish I can do that.”

You pursed your lips together, nodding understandingly. You wouldn’t have understood even if he told you anyway. You were used to solving problems the hard way, the unemotional way. What he couldn’t do, you could, and you wouldn’t understand why he never did it. It was the same way around. What you could do, he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t understand how you could even begin.

This was what people called: two worlds apart.

“You’re gonna keep blaming yourself, right?” You asked then, and he timidly nodded at you, his gaze shifting downwards in shame. Nodding once again, you breathed through your nose slowly and steadily, rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs in comforting circles before you spoke, “Then I forgive you. I forgive you, for what happened to my leg and just about anything that has occurred until now. You’re fine, Jisung.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped gently as a small sob escaped his lips. He was trying his best to look happy but it seemed like he was too overwhelmed by the amount of understanding he was receiving from you, “I’m okay?”

“Yes, you are fine,” you reassured, making sure every word was uttered out crystal clear for him to register. Leaning in hesitantly, you placed a tight kiss to his forehead and pulled away, “You’ve had it hard these couple months. I’m sorry.”

Jisung stopped the restriction on his tear line, letting the droplets flow freely down his cheeks as his mind wandered to all the ways the stylists would come up with to cover up his puffy eyes. His head lowered to meet yours, leaning his forehead against yours for support while you let him sob his soul out of the cage of his chest.

Your thumbs continued to rub on his cheeks, flickers of concern and warmth flashing before your eyes like broken lightbulbs, your emotions sparking into fire slowly and steadily. God, Jisung’s broken cries were painful to listen to, no amount of bloody screams you’ve heard could come close to how much Jisung’s sorrowful voice could disturb your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you continued to whisper as you pressed gentle kisses to his forehead, slowly and repeatedly, softly and tenderly. He nodded through incoherent sobs, listening to you and accepting your kind words. They couldn’t drag all his pain away but it was something you could say to help him coax it out of him better than he ever could when he was alone in a dark room. “You’re doing fine, Jisung. I promise.”

Two worlds apart, they all say.

But it felt like your hearts still managed to align as one.

* * *

Morning schedule ended with a breeze. The only trouble was really just trying to hide Jisung’s puffy eyes after crying through the entirety of breakfast but that was not a problem too hard for the makeup artists to handle.

The boys had all changed back to their normal clothing and had taken off their makeup to give their skin a little breather, all except Jisung and Chan due to their individual schedule to go on a radio show scheduled an hour later.

Jisung’s head laid comfortably on top of the waiting room couch despite the surface being one of the most rigid places he’s ever laid his body upon. The black leather screeching in his ear whenever he moved his head an inch to adjust his position, but his attention was more focused on the blank space ahead of him.

His senses lingered on your hands that cradled his face this morning, so gentle, and your mind that embraced him with understanding capacity, so comforting. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his head during the process of the photoshoot despite you not being anywhere near the vicinity of his eyesight, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop thinking about you, really.

His eyes spaced out on the invisible dust in front of him, his mouth slowly agape as he let his memories run wild on the field. All his friends had decided to let him be after seeing the tragic state he got himself into after they woke up one by one, and they did it defeatedly so after seeing his tearful face had something to do with you, _again_.

It came as a surprise when he didn’t recognize you after you walked into the room. He usually did, it was like he could feel your presence approaching or something supernatural like that, nobody ever questioned it and neither did he. But since Jisung was busy rewinding the tape in his head at the moment, his focus was scattered around everywhere, and when you popped your head in front of him to gain his attention, his eyes rounded in surprise.

He jumped with a yelp, but his eyes flashed a fraction of joy when his mind finally processed your features and matched you up as the person who saved his life yesterday, as the person who saw him cry this morning. He relaxed back onto the couch then, his cheek resting against his forearm as he looked up at you.

“Hey, Jisung,” you greeted, kneeling down next to him with your hands pressed on the edge of the leather couch.

“Hey,” he said in a hush, bright round eyes blazing at you in a way that made your lips quirk up in amusement. He always looked so excited to see you, you could never understand why but you weren’t complaining much about it either.

“Your manager told me to ask you if you would prefer me to accompany you and Chan to the radio show, or else I am going to head home with the rest,” you asked.

Jisung didn’t give much second thought to that question, his mouth just opened and he blurted what he wanted the most, “I want you to come with me.”

You nodded at his enthusiasm, giving him a word of confirmation before you stood up and left to speak to the manager. Before you could walk away far, though, you paused on your tacks and turned back around to return to your previous position. Jisung watched you with innocently curious eyes, his mouth puckered into a small pout as his head moved along with each of your movements.

“What?” He asked, smiling at you when you were finally at his face level.

You frowned at him, your lips pursing into a thin line as you stared at him for a moment. Jisung’s heart flushed with unharmful anxiety upon your unwavering gaze, waiting patiently as you reached behind your pocket and pulled out your signature cassette player, placing it in front of him.

He blinked at you questioningly, “What?”

“We are probably going to stay here for a little before we leave, and if you are going to keep lying on the couch, I figured you can listen to something,” you mumbled, with a little bit of hesitation you pushed the device towards him, “Or maybe not. You do have a phone… yeah, actually? Nevermind–”

“No, no, no! Don’t worry about it, I’ll take it!” Jisung blurted quickly, sitting up from his position and clamping his hand over the cassette player within a blink of an eye. He pulled it up to his chest, feeling his heart pound against the plastic he held tightly with both hands, “I’ll…” he gulped, “I’ll give it back to you later!”

You snickered in amusement at his frantic reaction. He should have known you would hand the player to him if he asked for it, you were already planning on lending it to him anyway. But you found him rather adorable being all embarrassed and heated about something so trivial, especially when it was about you.

“Okay,” you said, standing back up again and finally left for real this time.

Jisung waited for you to be out of his sight before he released the tension in his arm and pulled away from the cassette player. He smiled down at it gently as if it was some kind of treasured artifact he had spent years digging through. His actions raised some questions within his friends, but overall, they all knew why he would react so joyful whenever comes to you, so none of them said anything.

* * *

It was a rather bumpy car ride, you have to say. You have sat through a handful of cars where the drivers paid zero minds to their passengers or had zero regards for the laws of the road. A bumpy car ride wasn’t uncommon for you. But it wasn’t really the thuds and bumps that alerted you but the view outside the window.

The broadcasting station you guys were heading towards was located somewhere in the city. When the driver took a suspicious turn, you had simply assumed he was trying to take a shortcut since you guys left later than expected. All the stylists had already left for the station building before you guys got into the car and they had probably been waiting for you guys’ arrival.

But the sight outside the window didn’t change even after the five-minute mark you allowed it. The car should be driving within all the other cars within the city street right now, but instead, it was threading through an empty road somewhere close to the woods, you assumed. Having been trying to ignore your own hunch, you found it impossible to put your intuition away this time.

Your motives were unclear when you shifted in your seat and leaned close to the driver’s seat in front of you, your head ducked down so the driver wouldn’t catch your eyes through the review mirror. Jisung was busy chatting with Chan quietly on the side, occupying the middle and the window seat to the left side of the car, but when he saw your sudden movement, he had the brains to grow a sudden batch of caution towards the atmosphere too.

“(Name)…?” He called out quietly but received no response. He could feel Chan move from beside him, probably being as confused as he was upon seeing your intense gaze.

The both of them held back a sudden gasp when your hand reappeared from your pocket, holding tightly on the flipped up knife. Before they could begin to ask you questions discreetly, you had already reached over the driver’s seat, one arm over the driver’s shoulders and the other pressing the edge of the knife to his throat and the tip threateningly pinching into the surface of his fragile skin.

The manager gasped in shock before he tired to remove your hand, but you locked yourself in your place, your head popping from the little gap between the headset and the window.

“Where are you taking us?” You asked calmly, breathing down his neck like a shadowy creature.

The car came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road. Spreading to one side was the edge of the road and the other a field of tall trees and fallen leaves. It was the perfect place to sneak an attack on someone if you were ever thinking about locations in that sort of way. The lack of living creatures lurking around this place and the spacious areas were always too good for murderers to take place.

The driver raised both hands in surrender, “This is a short cut to the broadcasting station, I swear!”

You eyed him carefully. His arms were trembling and his voice was shaky, it was hard for you not to catch onto that when you were of such close proximity of him. Those he might have faked, but the sweat rolling down the side of his face couldn’t have been an acting method. With reluctance, you pulled away from him and returned back to your seat.

Oh, how you’ve grown soft, (Name).

The driver didn’t choose to unbuckle his seatbelt, which would ultimately be his downfall really. He lunged to the side where he hastily pushed open the glove compartment and pulled out a gun from inside. The manager had been too shocked to do anything when the driver pointlessly aimed the barrel to the backseat.

You’ve grown soft, (Name), but thankfully, you haven’t grown out of your reflexive habit.

Jisung flinched and shut his eyes tightly at the sight of the burning circle. You, on the other hand, were quick to jump over and land yourself right on top of his lap. Your hands shot out to the driver’s hand and forcefully cranked it upwards so the shot was fired to the ceiling of the car.

The sound blared across their ears, you being the only one who had more control over your own senses after having your eardrums assaulted that way. Not a second after the first shot was fired, before the driver could begin to register his next step, you circled your finger across the trigger and fired it once to loosen the driver’s grip with the shock effect, then you yanked the gun out of his hand and quickly pointed it back on him.

Chan’s eyes widened when he felt a light splash of liquid on his face, the sprinkling of red staining his sickeningly pale face. He looked over to the window, the panel decorated with a dark shade of red he never thought he would see so much of. He glanced over to the side at you, your expression returning back to the day he saw at the end of the music show.

He didn’t want to admit it, he tried not to think about it, but up until today the image of your expression was still vivid in his mind. Every time he talked to you, usually on rare occasion since you mostly only conversed with Jisung, his head would swarm back to that particular scene, where your expression was distinctively in reach yet emotionally inaccessible.

Your eyes shone with a sense emptiness in them but your lips were quirked up into a thoughtful smile, hauntingly joyful at the blood that seeped onto your tongue and unhealthy reliable on the pain of a third party to kick-start your nerves in order to feel something. It seemed like you were content with your doings, but in ways he could never be able to understand why.

And that was what Chan couldn’t be so sure about.

Do you feel? And if you do, what do you feel? What are your limitations?

It didn’t seem like you do when you kill people. Perhaps you were pushing it all in the back of your head, all the horrors of it, but Chan highly doubted that theory.

You turned around to look at Jisung, your head had been screaming at you to do that since the moment the driver dropped dead. You dropped the gun on the floor and welcomed his face in your hands, your eyes searching all parts of his features despite knowing he hadn’t been confronted with any harm after you literally threw yourself in front of him.

“Are you okay?” You asked, frantic.

Jisung held your hands, nodding with an assuring smile on his face, “I’m okay.”

“Okay, good,” you said before sparing Chan a glance. You wait a moment for his words of confirmation, which he gave you in a hushed tone before you got yourself out of the car with an annoyed grumble and opened the door to the driver’s seat.

You unbuckled the seatbelt of the driver and grabbed onto his shirt collar, throwing him out of the car roughly, “Can any of you drive?”

“I–I can,” the manager spoke.

“Well, come over,” you said, kick at the dead body on the floor, “We don’t really want to be late–_shit_.”

Your eyes glazed past the blind spot mirror, quickly being able to see several people approaching at a quick pace. Yelling to stop the manager from exiting from his side, you pressed on the lock button located below the handle of the car and immediately slammed the door shut.

“What are they doing now?” The manager asked after seeing your questionable action, looking up into the rearview mirror only to find a few shadowy figures turning their direction into the woods. He tilted his head, “Oh no.”

Jisung looked past his shoulder with furrowed brows, the manager’s tone scaring his heart into an unbeatable race. His voice stuttered as he spoke, “Wh–what? What happened–what is happening?”

“I don’t know, I saw people running into the woods. I’m guessing they already saw them coming,” he said as he moved over to the driver seat, grumbling at the small space, “We should leave, I think (Name) is stalling some time for us.”

Jisung’s eyes rounded in fear. Why are you doing this again? And you didn’t even think to give him any signal this time, you just ran yourself straight to the gates of Hell! His lips fell down with strings of protest as he scooted to the side of the seat, his hand clamming over the handle of the door before finger curled around his wrist.

“Jisung, no.”

He turned to find Chan glaring at him, and he tilted his head with confusion written all over his face, “No what?”

“We’re going to the broadcasting station, we are gonna be on the radio show and act like the only thing that happened on our way there is bad traffic,” Chan demanded, “I know what you want to do, but I don’t think that is what (Name) wants. There is a reason why they didn’t ask for help.”

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at Chan, “That means nothing to me. I am going after them.”

“I said no! Jisung, Jisung stop fighting me–stop!” Chan grabbed both of Jisung’s wrists with a good amount of force to stop him in his tracks. When Jisung turned to him with teary eyes, he wasn’t sure if he was fearing for your life or he was surprised at his sudden change of tone.

Chan sighed, “(Name) is here to protect us and they are doing their job.”

“(Name) is my friend,” Jisung replied through gritted teeth, bitterness lacing in his croaked voice. “They got stabbed because of me, and they literally just… threw themselves in front of a gun for me–how many people will do that?”

“Plenty, Jisung,” Chan said, exasperated, “I will. God, I will!”

“I know you will, but you never had to,” Jisung nodded, “You never had to do that for me, (Name) did.”

And until Chan has a chance to prove himself too, Jisung’s heart will reside with you for the time being.

He retreated his hands, moving away from Chan before he quickly got out of the car, ignoring everyone’s protest. He ran inside the woods, running into any opening he could find and trying to listen for your voices as he did so. You couldn’t have gotten too far away, especially with your injuries thighs.

“(Name)! (Name)! Where are you?” He called, his head turning from side to side in rapid motion as he listened to his intuition and let his feet bring him anywhere his heart felt was right.

It wasn’t long before he stumbled upon a dead body within the bushes. He let out a quick yelp but regained his sanity when he realized it’s got to be your doing, meaning he was close to finding you.

You tried to even out your breathing. You heard Jisung’s voice about a minute ago, his voice was surprisingly loud, and you could only pry that he would never ever stumble upon the area you were in.

“The boy is looking for you, (Name),” the girl before you snickered with menace, “Was he the one you saved when our boss sent the old man over to get one of you?”

Your gaze narrowed at her. Boss? “You’re one of those idiots from the Project Glitter group?” You said, with a little bit of fascination as you never thought you would be encountering one of the members of such a large scale murder group.

“Huh, so we figured you would know,” she said, nudging her chin towards you, “And you are the killer in the music show.”

“As you live and breath, bitch,” you said.

She sneered at you in annoyance, gripping the gun in her hand, “Please. Your time is over. Your leg is injured and I am the one with a gun.”

“Ah yes, yes, it always leads back to the gun,” you nodded with a snort. You haven’t been afraid of those in a long time, and you didn’t think you ever will be ever again. “Nevermind the fact that I just took down three of you with my injured thigh and a small knife because boo hoo, Glittery Barbie here has a gun! So did the driver, dipshit, and he’s still dead.”

She growled, raising her arm to finally point the barrel at you. She’s probably had enough of your talking and whining, both of which you purposefully did simply to push her to the edge. But before she had the chance to click on the trigger and before you had the chance to run, the bushes rustled.

You turned your head to the side with wide eyes, your head hammering in a nuisance. Your mind prayed and prayed for the intruder to be someone else other than Jisung and Chan. Anyone but Jisung and Chan. It could even be someone with another goddamn gun and you’d be happier than seeing those two.

Jisung stumbled into view quickly and you sighed in defeat. He looked at you, his fists curled at his side for a moment when he saw the horrendous state you were in. Blood trickled down your head to your chin, bulging red soaked through your white bandage, and your clothes were filled with dirt. He could only imagine the discomfort and pain you were in at the moment.

“(Name)…”

“Fuck, you came,” you muttered under your breath, still looking at him before you quickly yelled the three dreadful words Jisung never wanted to hear, “Han Jisung, run!”

His lips arched downwards at you then. Taking a moment to access the situation, he moved his gaze over to the girl in front of you and his eyes widened for a moment. The gun was still pointed your way, and normally he wouldn’t be too afraid since you seemed to always know what to do, but you weren’t focused at the moment.

Your eyes were on him, and her eyes were on you.

Jisung’s heart beat heavily against his chest as he began to sprint towards your way without thinking much of the consequences of said action. He just knew he had to get to you first before whatever comes after the loud bang does.

Well. He did run. Just not towards the direction you wanted him to go.

He had hoped this would happen in slow motion… or probably not. He wouldn’t want to feel the excruciating pain near his heart in the span of a few minutes, feeling it expand slowly and slowly in his chest. The piercing pain in his back hit him quickly and his knees buckled without a single scream coming out of his lips.

You gasped when you saw Jisung fall. Your first instinct was to catch him instead of going after the girl who had taken the shot, your arms going under Jisung’s fragile body and saving him from the pain of bumping on to the ground as you pulled him towards your chest.

The girl widened her eyes in shock. Shooting Jisung hadn’t been her first priority at all, nor did she expect him to take a bullet for you. That was quite the rare sight but it didn’t matter. She knew she had to end you before you flip around and end them all because she knew you could if you want to.

(Idiotically, she didn’t realize you not only could, but you would after what she did to Jisung.)

But before she could do anything, a pair of arms came around her throat from the back and placed her in a firm choke hand. Her hand loosened when she automatically moved to grab at the strong arms, her feet being lifted off and ground.

You gently laid Jisung down as your eyes focused on Chan, who let go of the girl after realizing he might have been restricting her airway for too long. You wasted no time to shove him out of the way and drilled your knife to her neck, killing her after she managed to turn around and look at you with painful flashes before her eyes.

You showed her nothing in yours.

When she dropped to the ground, you immediately turned around to find Chan kneeling on the floor with Jisung by his side. Blood was pouring out from under the ground and Jisung’s whimpers could be heard as his wear hand got smothered by Chan’s strong ones.

“Shit, shit, shit–hyung! Hyung! Please help, someone–(Name)? Do you know how to–I don’t know what to do, there’s nothing on his chest!” Chan screamed at you as you approached.

Your eyes were wide and your head was in a giant mess. Millions and millions of flashbacks of your classes and training came back to you in quick scrolling, you looked and looked and looked only to find nothing of help. You had never learned how to do this, how to help other people. All you had ever learned to do was to save yourself, you were never taught to save other people.

That had always been the school’s motto: Better you die than I.

You’ve placed all your faith in that for a long time and it has never failed you until this very moment, as you stared at Jisung’s trembling body. Tears dripped down his pretty face and sobs left his lips in painful gasps.

You reached into your pocket to pull out your phone, quickly calling the manager’s number and placing it to your ear. When the line connected, your words came in a fussy mess, “We are in the woods right now, Jisung got shot, please drive the car over–we need hospital and an ambulance–we need to hospital, go to the emergency room right now–”

“(Name)?” Instead of the manager’s voice, the familiar voice of your classmate sounded through your phone with a calm, questioning hum.

“Fuck, no, not you, damn it!” You hung up the line and threw the phone on the floor in frustration. How could you? How could you call the wrong number at a time like this? Your mind wasn’t with you anymore, it had drifted away somewhere far out of reach, and you were afraid.

So, so, so afraid.

Jisung eyed you as you stomped further and further away from him. At this point, he had already stopped fearing for what would happen as soon as his eyes close. He couldn’t feel the pain anymore, just the sticking of the blood on his shirt and the salty droplets of Chan’s tears. He accepted it, he knew there was no point in fighting for his own life anymore, so might as well die peacefully with people he cared about by his side.

And he wanted to call you over, he wanted to tell you so many things before he leaves the world. He wanted to tell you he really liked you, he really enjoyed your company, he really wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done and said to him, he really wanted to see you smile again, he really wanted to make you laugh again—he really wanted to tell you that you have been such a great friend to him, such an excellent friend.

But it seems like you weren’t really in the mood for it, huh? Jisung would chuckle if he could but he was tired.

So, so, so tired.

“Hyung…” Jisung spoke, smiling up at Chan weakly, still flashing his teeth at the very last moment. His hand moved away for a moment and reached into his pocket, where he pulled out your cassette player, “Tape. Remember. Computer. Songs. Tape. (Name). Please.”

He could only choke out his voice in single words and Chan found that so defeating to hear. And he found himself so useless for not being able to do anything except watch his friend take his last breath.

You faced the tree that stood before you, still childishly refusing to stand by Jisung’s side in his last moments. It wasn’t a good idea, you knew you were going to regret it severely in the near future, but you just couldn’t do it. You didn’t think you deserve to interrupt his last moment with someone he had been with for so long, with Chan, so you stayed away despite the pounding of your brain telling you to run to Jisung. Just run to him.

It felt like forever before a hand tapped your shoulder. Chan sighed when you didn’t turn around to face him so he took the initiative to stand in front of you. His eyes widened a little at the tears that were silently flowing down your face, at the quivering lips that puffed out shaky breaths. And when you looked up into his eyes, he sucked in a breath of air.

You do feel. You are feeling right now. He found out.

“You know I have never cried before,” you started with a mellow voice, “I didn’t cry when I got kidnapped. I didn’t cry when I first got shot in the shoulder. I didn’t cry when my roommate got murdered.”

Chan sniffed, listening to you calmly. He had thought he would be more angry seeing your face but really, what was he to be angry about? You trying to save them by pulling yourself out of consideration and stalling time for them? This worst-case scenario wasn’t planned, there was absolutely no way for you to know thing would turn out this way.

Jisung changed the route of destiny when he decided you were worth saving.

“I’m so sorry, it should have been me,” you said dryly, “Jisung doesn’t deserve the bullet, I do.”

Chan didn’t know what to say. If he could rewind time, he would choose Jisung over you any chance given, and he supposed you would too. But to say you deserved it? No, he didn’t think so. He didn’t think anyone deserved it really.

“I’m sorry too,” he said as he slowly pulled you into a tight embrace, sharing the traumatic emotions through the less-than-comforting hug, but it was what you two could only do now. “He was your friend.”

It took you a moment of hug him back and when Chan got the confirmation, he allowed himself the action of gently stroking your hair. Perhaps a form of comfort you have never received from anyone else, perhaps not even Jisung himself.

“You did your best, I think Jisung wants to thank you for that,” he whispered, “There is a reason why he chose to save you. People don’t just take bullets for other people.”

You buried your face in his chest, your breathing thickened into harsher breathes as you nodded slowly. Giving yourself a moment to collect your thoughts, you spoke, almost in a jokingly manner, “He taught me how to properly hug people too.”

Chan didn’t speak, the tears streaming down his face increased at the thoughts that he would never be able to embrace the younger boy ever again and how significantly lost he would feel due to how touchy Jisung had always been. With his silence, yours came tumbling in too, wondering whether this was the right time for a light-hearted banter.

But Chan laughed, shortly and almost silently. He nodded, “He’s good at that.”

You two stayed in that position until someone eventually found you two. When you two headed back to where you came from, Jisung’s body was gone.

Strangely.

* * *

Minho was starting to like you. He really was. He tried his best at that, despite still having his own uncertainty towards who you are and what you do. Seeing Jisung being so comfortable with you and seeing Chan and Hyunjin’s nonchalance as those two made light conversations with you made him believe that he might have been a little overdramatic.

But his nerves were pulled when he opened the dorm’s front door to find only you and Chan standing by the entrance. He was about to ask, the dread already rising up in his chest at the uncomfortable gap standing between you both where Jisung was supposed to be.

Chan opened his mouth to call his name when he saw the devastation flickered across Minho’s eyes, but before he could even open his mouth to speak, Minho had brushed past him with his arms stretched out for you. Chan quickly turned around upon the gasps of all the other members and his eyes widened when he saw that Minho had you pinned on the wall with his hands tightly clutched on your shirt collar.

“Minho–”

“You killed him! You–you killed Jisung!”

You stared at the sad boy in front of you, your hollow gaze not reflecting his tearful and angry ones. God, you wanted to bring yourself to say something defensive, to protect yourself from Minho’s reasonable aggression, but you were just too far beyond the point of exhaustion and despair, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but let your mind flood with Minho’s accusing words.

You did this to him. You killed Jisung. He didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve him. You should have been the one to die. It was you. He gave you everything and you gave him nothing, you bastard.

“Hyung stop it! You don’t have to hurt (Name) to get your point across!” Hyunjin reached out to touch Minho’s shoulder, only to be swatted away without a care.

Minho continued to stare at you through fiery eyes, his teeth gritted tightly when he realized he had run out of things to say. His mind was in a state of haywire, words had always come so easily to him except for right now, when he realized he was no longer going to see his friend anymore.

“Minho, please,” Chan said, walking over and putting his hand on top of Minho’s, passive-aggressively pulling on his death grip. Everything was hurting his mind—Jisung’s death, Minho’s aggression, your silence. He found himself at a loss for words and he wanted nothing more than to curl up on his bed and block out the world, but he couldn’t do that right now.

He’s got a whole team to look after.

“Stop it! No! Jisung is dead!” Minho turned to yell at Chan abruptly, “Jisung is dead and it is their fucking fault!”

Chan heaved a sigh, “It’s not their fault. Now please, just let them go and we can talk over what happened–”

“I don’t need to talk over it, I know what happened!” Minho cut him off, “It is so unfair, why did Jisung have to die while someone like you get to live?”

“Minho.”

“Jisung did nothing wrong, he did nothing wrong!”

“Minho.”

“You left him out to die, didn’t you!”

“Shut up–just shut up, Minho, stop talking!” The last nerve within Chan clicked and he snapped, pushing him away from your weaker form and stepping up in front of you daringly, staring at Minho with a glare he never thought he had the capability to muster, “You weren’t there, Minho. You were _not_ there–I was, Jisung was, (Name) was!”

Chan acknowledged everything, from the way you tried to sacrifice yourself to the way Jisung refused to leave your side, and from the mindset of Jisung when he made the choice to save you to the first set of tears he ever saw rolling down your face. Chan was there for everything, and to hear Minho falsely assume and accuse you of what had happened irked him to no end.

He felt the need to defend you because your guilt didn’t allow you to defend yourself, because he knew Jisung would do it for you if it was the other way around.

“They tried, they really tried,” Chan whispered, “Jisung chose to run after (Name). There was nothing they could have done about it, it was what Jisung chose to do.”

Minho huffed out a breath. He pursed his lips into a trembling thin line, glaring at Chan as best as he could but he was crumbling inside and his heart was weakening further and further. He glanced past Chan’s shoulder to look at you, your soulless eyes continued to stare ahead into space, and he clenched his fist.

He turned around to leave before his impulse could make him do anything irrational, the other members following him back in without so much as a word. Chan waited for everyone to return back into their rooms before he turned to look at you, his heart beating out of his chest at the dull look on your face.

You had returned back to your original self. You felt like the _you_ he met in the conference room before the start of Hell Week, not at all like the _you_ Jisung has carved you into, and his heart ached at how quickly the legacy has fallen.

“(Name)–”

“Jisung’s wallpaper was Minho,” you said, “His phone wallpaper is a picture of Minho sleeping. I… I thought he should know that.”

“I will tell him that when he calms down later,” Chan nodded, moving to stand closer to you. He bent down a little to meet your eye-level, his eyes filled with concern the way Jisung’s ones used to have. “Are you okay?”

“No, but I will get over it eventually… I have to,” you shook your head, “I think–” you sniffed, “I think you have to, too.”

Even though you knew he wished he didn’t have to do that so soon.

“Can you get my things for me, Chan? I think it is time I leave this place,” you said.

He paused for a moment, unable to process your words. He stood up straight suddenly, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. What? Now you just plan to up and leave them entirely? “What? No, why?”

“Chan, I clearly failed my job. I was supposed to protect all of you but obviously I didn’t do too well with that,” you said.

“Yeah, that doesn’t really matter, (Name),” Chan said, “You can’t just leave, there is still the rest of us here. You can’t just leave!”

You blinked up at him in confusion, unsure to why he was so hung up on your presence, but you have already made up your mind. Not only would the boys not want you there, most likely, but the dorm just wouldn’t be the best place for you to stay in after Jisung’s death. You realized it would be a little unfair for the boys that they couldn’t choose to leave, but you could and you were going to grab the chance.

“Okay, fine, but I still have to leave, Chan.”

He scoffed, “Why? Just because Minho said something to you? Well, I’m sorry he did but you can’t hate all of us just because he said something!”

“I… I don’t hate you, Chan. I don’t hate any of you,” you furrowed your eyebrows in bewilderment, “If I do then I have nothing, then I throw away everything that Jisung gave me… and I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

Perhaps his legacy hasn’t quite faded after all.

“Please, just get my things,” you asked again. “And tell everyone who wants to hear it, I’m sorry.”

Chan pursed his lips together, defeated. He sent you a quick nod then, “Okay.”

* * *

Days have passed since Jisung’s death, but despite having each other together in one place to provide the love and comfort needed to cope with his death, the boys never seemed to be able to get the hang of living with only eight members. And they shouldn’t be able to, really, for Jisung had carved such a deep place in all of their hearts with his bright and kind personality.

The memories of him couldn’t just fade. Not for them and certainly not for you.

Chan sighed as he gripped his phone tightly. It was about the tenth times this afternoon, the same news about the continuous deaths of random members from the Glittery Project Group popped up on his social media feed again.

Chan hadn’t suspected anything at first, thinking it could just be a tragic event that happened, but seeing how these murders were timed out and how deliberately staged each of them appeared, he could only believe—firmly believe—that you had been the one pulling strings from behind the scenes.

A part of him was afraid of who you had become at this point, or just who you had retuned to be. Another part of him was… relieved, relieved that you didn’t throw everything away and simply leave them to their own devices, that you were still in Korea.

He dropped his phone on the makeup table and stood up, pushing his chair back with a light squeak. Giving a quiet notice to the stylist, he made his way out of the waiting room and headed out to the hallway in search for the restroom.

His eyelids were heavy as he walked, his steps slow and weighting. He hadn’t been sleeping well, especially not after he had to neglect his own well-being to make sure the rest of the members were feeling better than he was. And he had been staying awake at night, sitting alone in the empty studio and just staring ahead into the dust.

Thinking, breathing, crying.

And he had been spending most of his nights deciphering and fixing Jisung’s code—like sentence he said seconds before his death: _Tape. Remember. Computer. Songs. Tape. (Name). Please._

Perhaps his exhaustion was causing him to hallucinate, but he swore he saw your familiar face somewhere within the crowd of people marching through the hallway. His need to head into the restroom just to splash his face with a handful of cold water vanished the second he saw locks of your hair moving through the crowd, and his legs automatically brought him closer to your figure.

A hand caught onto your wrist suddenly, pulling you away from where you were originally going and you abruptly turned around, ready to strike on the person who dared to stop you in your tracks, but you softened as soon as your eyes met Chan’s emotional ones.

A rush of adrenaline filled at your nose and your eyes, so quickly your body couldn’t get used to it and now you could hear a light pounding at the back of your head. Immediately disregarding the pain, you snatched yourself away from Chan and turned fully to him, sighing before you greeted, “Hey.”

“Was it you?” He asked quickly, looking dead into your eyes, “Did you kill them all?”

You didn’t need to ask to know what he was talking about, and to be truthful, you felt no remorse for all the lives you’ve taken. You never have and you definitely wouldn’t now that you were taking out everyone in the group that took Jisung away from you.

“Yes. I did some of them and I asked some of my brothers and sisters to help too, to make me less suspicious,” you said, shifting your weight, “They were where the clean headshots came from.”

Chan stared at you for a moment, unable to speak. It wasn’t like he was going to stop you from doing what you were already doing. He knew better than to convince you to stop, honestly, he knew he would fail miserably. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about getting himself a dose of revenge either, he just didn’t have the guts and power to do it.

“Do you think Jisung would want you to do this?”

Well, he tried his hand at it anyway.

Your eyes widened and you pursed your lips together. That was unfair, you knew Jisung wouldn’t want that, you knew and you _have_ considered his feelings because no matter what had happened, Jisung still has a huge amount of impact on your thinking and your actions. But you have come to a final conclusion that whatever you were doing, that your vengeance does not involve him.

As much as you hope to involve Jisung in every part of your life, your vengeance, your anger, and how you wanted to deal with it does not have anything to do with him. They were your feelings and only you knew yourself best.

“No, I don’t think he would,” you nodded at Chan, “But I want to do this, so if you can, please leave me alone and let me do what I want.”

“You’re killing people, (Name),” he scoffed.

“As if I haven’t been doing that my entire life?” You titled your head with a slight sneer.

“Excessively, you are doing too much of it,” Chan pointed out, “You don’t use to be like this.”

“Oh, like Hell you know how I used to be like. You never tried to get to know me, none of you did,” you retorted, voice stoic but your expression displayed heavy sadness. You were trying your best to keep your feelings at bay but oh dear, you’ve grown so soft because of Jisung, you forgot how to lie perfectly with your face now.

Moving away from Chan, you jabbed your finger behind your shoulder, “I have to go. You should too, before anyone sees me with you.”

Chan stood on his spot, still repeating your statement back and forth in his head. You were right, none of them ever did try to get to know you better due to the blood on your hands. Only Jisung ever knew you the way he did, no one else knew you the way he did. And the way you pointed that out made Chan felt guilty, somehow, as if he had been falsely accusing you of being yourself the whole time.

* * *

Being an inside person has never been hard for you. It wasn’t one of the few things you learn in school, you didn’t think the teachers ever taught you how to lie, you kind of just knew how to fake your way out of all kinds of trouble after you were officially thrown into the field and taking jobs through your handler.

Living among smarter, more calculative people had taught you a thing or two, one of which was the extremely cliche line that you were sure most people have heard of already: keep your enemies closer. It took you almost zero effort to get yourself involved with the people of the Glitter Project Group.

All you needed was a few albums, a few self-edited wallpapers, and a shit load of personal information on the idol group they were unofficially working for.

“Hey, (Name)! Are you ready to kick some ass?”

You looked up at the girl, Hyeri being her name, you remembered. She had been your partner for the past two days, stuck in a room and furiously spreading rumors in front of computers. It was quite the surprise to you, you thought all they did was kill people but turned out they didn’t let the chance to freely cyberbully idols slip away too.

She was bubbly, really happy. It surprised you that she would even join an organization as horrendous as this one but you supposed you could never judge a book by its cover.

“We’re going in the field today? Like actually hunting down people?” You asked, moving over to her side and staring down on the road.

You two were seated high up on the rooftop. Located just below the building were crowds of people circling around a very spacious area where idols were supposed to appear and pose for the cameras. At least that was supposed to be the way it was, for Hell Week, it was just another death trap for idols to walk through.

“No, but kind of? We are just giving locations of where everybody is,” Hyeri answered as she held up a walkie-talkie. “But honestly? I am not really fond of doing all the killing, so I am actually glad I won’t be doing any of that.”

You hummed, masking the bitterness in your voice with a short reaction before you spoke, “Really? That’s nice of you. Unlike you, I want to get down there…”

“Really? Even with your leg?” She asked, glancing at your wound, “By the way, are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks for asking,” you nodded with a small smile, “Anyway, do you know if there are any empty slots open for me to work my way up? Any big projects? Any… groups to target?”

Hyeri pursed her lips in thought, her perfect lips puckering cutely as she tilted her head to the side. With a small shrug of her shoulders, she nodded, “I think the leader is planning something really big. I haven’t heard a lot from it because… well… nobody ever tells me anything. I’m a little ditzy, I have to eavesdrop all the time if I want to get any information.”

“What is it about?” You pressed on, staring at you with curious eyes, “What is the big thing?”

She smiled, shaking her head, “I heard it but I don’t think I am supposed to tell you that. I mean, they kept the plan a secret for a reason.”

You bit your lower lip in thoughts, a slight amount of annoyance raising up your chest as you glanced at the girl next to you. She definitely wasn’t cautious of you, which would make it easier for you to keep the information out of her.

Taking a deep breath, you smiled a little and nudged her shoulder with yours, “Tsk. Look at you, eavesdropping on such a big-scale operation and not telling me about it. Are you planning to infiltrate it so you can take over or something?”

Hyeri laughed, “Me? No way. I can never do that, I am too dumb.”

“Oh, shut up, Hyeri! You literally just told me you eavesdropped on our leader’s conversation!” You playfully shoved her, “You obviously had some skills in you to be able to sneak away in time before they find out! You probably secretly has all the skills but you just aren’t showing it.”

She was a giggling mess by now, basking in the compliments like pouring rain, and her giggles only meant that your plan to push her over the edge of honesty was succeeding. After collecting herself, Hyeri fixed up her hair and her voice before she turned to you, squinting at you for a moment and letting a smile slowly show up on her face.

“Okay fine! I didn’t hear much but I heard they are targeting this rookie group… Stray Kids?” She said.

Your heart automatically jumped at the name but you remained calm, feigning shock as you looked over at her, “Really? It doesn’t look like they have a solid plan though. Is that why so many of us are dying all of a sudden? Because they have really scary bodyguards?”

“They do have a plan, actually. I think they waited until today to create more shock value since today is the last day of Hell Week. I don’t know where or when they plan to do it, though… And yeah, Stray Kids do have like… really scary bodyguards,” Hyeri nodded, a shiver running down her spine as she recalled all the gruesome pictures and news.

“You know the last time they sent the big old man over? I don’t remember who the leader was trying to get but I just know the man never came back,” she exclaimed in a hushed voice, “And that other time with the radio station schedule. None of them came back to the report but at least one of them died… Han Jisung, was it?”

_Damn it._

Your eyes hardened with an impossible glare, staring dead down at Hyeri after she dared to speak of Jisung’s name in such a casual manner.

_Damn it. Damn it. Damn it._

His name sparked a light within your chest, adding fuel to your violent desires to just kill them all, to get back on them all for killing the person who you cared about the most and who cared about you the most.

_Han Jisung._

You curled your fists tightly together, forcing them down your lap as you quickly put a smile on your face. The video in your head came to a stop on Jisung’s face, prompting you to remember every single detail of his beautiful features-his knowing eyes, his bubbly cheeks, his fluffy hair, his calloused and gentle hands, his genuine smile, his radiant soul.

Oh, how they’ve loved every inch of your damaged soul, and how you’ve loved every inch of him as you might.

_Calm down._

It came in the form of Jisung’s voice.

“Yeah, Han Jisung, eighteen years old, kind of short but killer smile,” you said with a nod of approval.

Hyeri turned to you with an amused smile, “Wow, you know an awful lot.”

“I do, I killed him,” you said.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, you weren’t even there when that happened!”

“You don’t know that,” you turned to Hyeri, “I was there when it happened. I killed him, and everyone else.”

She stared at you in shock, a look of utter disbelief crossing her pretty little face, the pretty little face you were about to ruin. The stuttering of her voice didn’t faze you at all, your mind was set on one thing and one thing only: kill her.

“Thank you for the piece of information, that is all I needed,” you said, pulling out a pistol you haven’t been using for the week, finally giving it a chance to shine. “I’m afraid we have to part ways now.”

She tried to run, and the bullets were much faster than her fragile body that plummeted to the ground. You watched as the blood ooze out from underneath her body, purposefully soaking up your shoes in the pool of redness to add a few more variations to your white tennis shoes.

It was quite a beautiful color, you thought.

Within the midst of your trance, your phone rang, buzzing up on your back pocket. Pulling it out of your jeans, you glanced at the caller name to find that it was Chan calling you. How peculiar, why would he call you all of a sudden? Having second thoughts on declining the call, your responsibility got the best of you and you pressed on the green button.

“What do you want now?”

(Name)? Oh thank god, you picked up,“ Hyunjin’s trembling voice came through the speaker and your brows furrowed in alert at his teary tone.

"Hyunjin? What happened?”

“I–I think hyung is gone. I don't–I don’t know what happened but they got called outside to pick something up from the van and they haven’t been back since!” Hyunjin choked out, twisting and turning about in the waiting room, “I don’t know–we don’t know what to do. Jeongin and Seungmin are here, Woojin-hyung and Changbin-hyung are looking around for… for…”

“Hyunjin,” you called as you stomped over the body and quickly headed over to the stairs. Fuck, how did this happen? You were just talking to Chan a while ago! Alright, this was just another kidnapping. This happened before, not exactly the way it was being unfolded right now but you have been in similar situations before.

_You can do this._

It came in the form of Jisung’s voice.

“Hyunjin, can you tell me if Minho brought his phone with him?”

“I…I don’t know, I think so?”

“Okay, can you find a laptop anywhere?” You asked, rushing down the stairs to head back into the busy building as you tried to focus on the sounds of your steps so you could keep your mind clear and wise. “Hyunjin, can you look for a laptop, please?”

You heard shuffling for a moment before his voice came back.

“I found Chan’s laptop but there is a passcode, I don’t know what it is,” he said, “I think Changbin-hyung and… Jisung knows…”

“Find Changbin and ask him to unlock it. You try to call Minho’s phone and do not stop calling until he picks it up, okay?” You said, “I am coming over right now, I am literally at the hallway.”

“Okay… okay… wh–what are you going to do, (Name)?”

“What am I gonna do?” You laughed a little, “I’m gonna track and kill that son of a bitch. That’s what.”

* * *

Minho could feel his phone buzzing in his front pocket but unfortunately, his hands were tied behind his back. Seated in a kneeling position by the rusty column located somewhere he did know, he glared ahead at the young-looking girl who sat on a single chair in the middle of the spacious area.

He had no idea where he was, not daring to look outside the window when both he and Chan were forced into the car with guns pointed at their cheek. The sweat stained his heavily dyed hair, creating a line of sticky droplets down the side of his soft cheeks as he fearfully anticipated the exact moment a car jolts and the gunner accidentally pulls the trigger on him. It didn’t happen, but it sure as hell felt like any worse-case scenarios could happen when he was put in such a dangerous situation.

The phone stopped for a moment before it started buzzing again. Minho counted the times it had rang—fifteen times. Only his friends would have that kind of consistency, he believed, it’s got to be one of the boys who was calling him non-stop. It gave him a bit of relief that people were trying to find him, and a part of him wondered if this excessive calling was a part of a deliberate plan.

He wondered, for once, if you were here to help after Chan told everyone he saw you lurking in the hallway.

Noticing the continuous mumbling Minho was doing, Chan furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at the girl who was paying much attention to the two of them. Licking his lower lip anxiously, he scooted closer to Minho’s side and nudged his feet with his own, “What are you saying?”

Minho blinked a few times, his consciousness coming back to him so he could continue to glare at the girl seated leisurely in the middle. Turning to the side just a fraction, he shrugged with an inward chuckle, “You won’t believe but… uh… I was thinking if (Name) is going to come for us.”

Chan raised his eyebrows in surprise, “What… makes you think that?”

“My phone’s been buzzing for ages now, I’m pretty sure the boys are calling us but… don’t you think maybe something is happening?” He whispered, glancing between Chan and the girl, “Maybe (Name) knows how to track us?”

Chan’s shoulders slumped. Well, he hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t know if the boys would know where to find you, or if they were going to find you for help at all? But new sparks of hope ignited in his chest the moment your name was mentioned.

And seeing how you have reacted with the people who so much was slightly involved with the group that had Jisung killed, he wouldn’t be surprised to know that you would jump at the chance to interfere with any of their operations.

“Where is your phone?” Chan asked quietly.

Minho gestured towards his front pocket, the silent buzzing showing from the tightness of his leather pants. Puffing out a few nervous breaths of air, Chan tried his best at discreetly moving forward so his feet meet Minho’s thighs. Leaning forward and ducking his head, he leaned over to the side just the slightest so he could move his hand over to the waistband of Minho’s pants.

Minho sucked in a breath when Chan’s blind hands roamed around the rather obscene places, rolling his eyes slightly at the fact that he couldn’t possibly blame Chan for not knowing where his hand was going exactly. Endearing for a few seconds of scratchy hands trying to find the opening of his pant pocket, Chan finally fished out the phone, tipping it dangerously over his fingers but eventually holding it in a soft grip.

“Answer the call,” Minho urged, looking down at the phone, “Move your thumb to the left.”

“I am trying, how about you do it?” Chan retorted, turning back to look at Minho, who only glared back at him with furrowed eyebrows.

Within the midst of their bickering, the two didn’t realize the shadowy figure that loomed over them curiously. With a small call of your name, the two quickly snapped their heads over to the girl who was originally seated in the middle of the room. Her eyes were wide with boredom as she looked over the two, and when she finally saw the phone in Chan’s hand, she snickered.

Reaching over to grab the phone, flinching a little when Chan’s abruptly moved to the side, she pulled it off his hand and quickly stood at a safe distance. “Your friends are calling,” she hummed, sliding the call button and putting the phone to her ear. She stayed silent mostly, her brows furrowing slightly when no one spoke.

“Hello?” She asked impatiently after hearing only static and no noise.

You eyed Hyunjin carefully, shaking your head as a cue for him to keep silent as you skilfully typed on Chan’s laptop after asking receiving information on Minho’s phone. Changbin was hovering over you from the back, his chin occasionally tapping against the top of your head and his arms caging you in the small space. You would tell him to move away, but you were too focused on the green dotted map on the screen to care about him.

“Is anyone here?” She asked, stomping her feet on the ground as she sighed in annoyance.

Hyunjin licked his lower lip, his shaky eyes darting between the screen and you. Desperately wanting to say something to reassure that someone would be going after his friends, Hyunjin moved over to stand beside you, looming over you almost in the way Changbin was.

You shook your head without paying much attention to him, muttering and typing in your own little knowledgeable universe. What was actually a minute felt like a lifetime for the boys, but the second you pressed enter, almost dramatically the screen zoomed in and the red target point pressed tightly on top of the map.

You breathed out a relieved sigh and moved away from the table. Looking over to Hyunjin, you beckoned him to hand you Chan’s phone, which he quickly did, and you placed it near the laptop’s speaker.

“Hello?”

You pressed the space bar.

The starting melody of M.I.A plays.

* * *

You arrived not too long after the phone call, finding yourself stepping into a place very familiar with where Jisung supposedly passed away. The trees were high and tall, gracing your small figure with large shades from the bright sun. Standing tall before you was a warehouse-like structured building. The outside of it appeared faded and rusty, and the giant entrance door was slightly ajar as if welcoming your presence.

You walked in without a second thought, gripping the pistol in your hand tightly as you brushed past the metal rim of the door and headed inside. The lights were flashing in through the opened windows located on the walls just below the triangular ceiling, specks of dust fading in and out before your eyes and revolving themselves around the three people not too far away from you.

Chan’s eyes widened at you before they quickly softened. You spared him just a single glance before you looked back at the girl, your head quickly tilting to the side. Assuming she was the leader of the Glittery Barbie group (as you like to call it), she was nothing like you expected her to look like.

But honestly, what were you even surprised about at this point?

Her hair flows prettily around her shoulders, her cheeks filled with the perfect amount of blush and her lips tinted with the right shade of lipsticks. Her pastel clothing had given her a more youthful essence she had probably lost not too long ago.

She was pretty and if you didn’t know better, you might even deem her as a likable person too. But analyzing her appearances wasn’t what you were here for.

She stood up when she finally saw you, standing up straight to face you after having heard about you for so many times. Opening her mouth to speak, the first sound that came out of her mouth was a piercing scream accompanied by a loud bang of your pistol.

You had pulled it out within a blink of an eye, not even giving her the chance to speak. That was your plan after all: kill her and leave. You were never a fan of torture or slow kills, those were a huge waste of time for you as you were much more of a 'get it done quickly’ kind of person. You stared at her in boredom, watching as she clutched her thigh in pain, and for a second you let your eyes trail behind her at Minho and Chan.

“Stand up, we’re leaving,” you announced as you walked forward, gun still pointed at her and ready to shoot, but she quickly retaliated by fishing out one of her own and pointing it towards whoever she could.

“No!” She yelled as she looked up, pressing the gun to Minho’s jaw threateningly. “I’ll shoot him.”

Chan wanted to move his body to shove her out of the way but he couldn’t be too sure he could push her far enough that if she shoots impulsively, it wouldn’t hit Minho and kill him instantly, so Chan waited for you to make a move instead.

You eyed Minho, staring at him with faint interest. He looked back at you, unsure if you still held the grudges with you regarding your last encounter, he could only hope you had forgiven him for his outburst.

“What makes you think I care about him?” You asked, breathing out an amused laugh, “I only want to kill you. If you shoot him, you give me the chance to shoot you, and I assure you I am much faster.”

Her senses faltered a little, “I… If you don’t care about him, you wouldn’t be here.”

“What made you think I wasn’t here for you?” You asked, stepping closer “I am here because I want to kill you.”

“Why? Because of Han Jisung–”

Minho finches with his eyes closed as soon as he heard a shot fired. The sound of metal clanking against the floor was loud and he felt no pain on any parts of his body. Curiously, and fearfully, he opened one of his eyes to find the girl’s body tumbled to the ground, the gun had long left her hand.

You pursed your lips together and your arm trembled. God, his precious name, how dare she say his magnificent name with such filth stained on her lips. The sole idea of it made you cringe over and over again in milliseconds, and having her bring up Jisung made your nerves snap like electricity, flowing through all parts of your body and reminding you of what she has done—indirectly—to him.

Oh no, you missed him, you really did. The grieve you never let out had welled up too far in your chest, the second you let your doors open they burst out like fireflies stuck in a jar, their lights cutting through the air.

You looked down at her body. This bitched killed him, and you’re gonna make sure she’s ten feet down in Hell.

“That was… fast…” Minho muttered under his breath, scooting away from the blood that dripped against his clothed knees. “Thank you…thank you, (Name)–_hey!_”

Continuous shots rang through their ears like needles to their skin, poking and hurting. Your eyes were hollow, unmoving, as you assaulted the dead body with hot bullets firing through the barrel.

Chan looked up at you through his sweaty bangs, his brows furrowed in alert at your emotional state. This wasn’t you, you wouldn’t do something like this. Perhaps you were right when you said he didn’t know shit about you but this? He could just tell, he could tell the emotions were clouding your judgment at this very moment.

Your pistol dropped to the ground when bullets ran out. With heavy breathing and unsteady mind that faked your brain into thinking your sanity was at bay, you growled under your breath as your gaze hardened and you pulled out the pocket knife in your pocket and proceed to approach the girl’s body.

“(Name), stop! She’s dead!” Chan yelled, struggling against the ropes around his wrist as he stood up and attempted to step in front of you. You paused when you saw him, your gaze still as hooded as ever even when they met with his warm, brown ones. “She is dead, (Name). You can stop now.”

You bit on your lower lip, for a moment your mind swarmed back to you, but it quickly vanished once you looked down at the dead body. Your eyes widened a fraction and you quickly shoved Chan out of the way to continue with your unreasonable attacks.

Chan heaved a frustrated sigh as he stumbled back and harshly dropped to the floor. A few clanks could he heard when his hips hit the ground and he turned around to look for the source, quickly finding the familiar cassette player Jisung had given him the day of his death. Chan’s eyes widened.

The tape.

The tape!

He scrambled over to the player, grabbing it in his hands. His fingers fumbled against the buttons before he finally came across the play button, pressing onto it firmly to start to tape he placed inside only days ago.

Dramatic coughing sounds echoed through the empty building, and then it was what you recognized to be Jisung’s laughter. He sounded quite awkward, stumbling across his words and mumbling to himself as it went on.

You had long stopped your movements as soon as you heard his voice coming through the cassette player. For a moment, you looked at your surroundings in hopes that you would find him standing somewhere near despite knowing he wouldn’t be around right now, then your eyes landed on your cassette player, the one Jisung never returned back to you.

_“Hi, (Name)! So, uh, I wanted… um… I wanted to thank you for what you are doing for us… and everything you have done for us… if I end up giving this tape to you at the end of the week… if I do give it to you at all–Okay, I’m talking too much.”_

Tears were brimming at the back of your eyes as you got off the girl’s body. Your legs and your hands were all bloodied but you could not care less about that, your mind was focused on solely Jisung’s voice. Your hands left bright red prints on the floor as you crawled over to his voice, droplets finally leaving your shiny eyes and silent breathes sounding through the sunlights.

_“This is a mixtape, basically. I kept asking you to listen to songs because I wanted to compile this for you… like a present, you know? Like a gift… um… pretty sure you know what those are but anyway!”_

You grabbed the player and paused the tape, rewinding it back to the beginning where Jisung coughed and he laughed before he started.

_“Hi, (Name)!”_

You paused again to repeat the same line. Chan and Minho sat by your side silently as they watched you repeatedly pressed on the player, unconsciously bringing it closer and closer to your cheek as you drowned yourself in the solace Jisung’ mere voice was bringing you.

Your unfocused eyes, lashes stained with tears, looked over to the both of them, and their heart skipped a beat at how broken and quiet your voice was when you finally spoke words for the first time within the last minute.

“He was my first friend,” you whispered, “Jisung was my first friend.”

Han Jisung was your first friend. He was your only friend.

And unfortunately, you had the dreadful privilege of experiencing the pain of losing him.

Chan moved over to you slowly, his knees hitting the floor until he approached your shrunken figure. He nudged his cheek against the top of your head, feeling only remorse for having left you to grieve on your own.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

The tape continued to play, with Chan slightly humming the songs he knew of.

And when their own song played, he let Jisung’s voice echo throughout the building.

* * *

The long bell rang hours ago, signaling the end of Hell Week.

It felt as if the entire country finally let out a breather when the clock struck six, and the sky brightened at the knowledge that it wouldn’t be wafting in the metallic scent of blood until next year approaches.

The airport was quiet at this time, which was the best since you wouldn’t want to leave when there were people swarming through the lobby waiting for their own idols to come back from the comfort of another place. Besides, you’ve got a job to handle immediately after Hell Week, so leaving a couple of hours after having calmed yourself and everyone down from the hectic life that was the idol purge was the best option for you.

Your eyes were still a little puffy from the tears. You found it quite fascinating, though, seeing your red eyes and having them not come from being punched in the face by one of your classmates. You willingly chose this one, you were crying over a friend.

Your handler had already gone inside the departure gate, deciding to give you a couple of minutes of peace with the boys, who all left after a small greeting and a heartfelt apology. Chan was the last one to leave, his feet unmoving as he stood before you with tired eyes.

He always looked so worn out.

“Do you have to go back? You can just stay here, really,” he suggested, “It’s worse out there, I assume. I don’t… I don’t really want you to go through that.”

You smiled up at him gently, “I can’t. What am I going to do here, Chan?”

“Protect us?” He said, “I can ask for a spot. If I ask then maybe you will get it, I am very well-loved in the company.”

You didn’t laugh, only smiled. With a small exhale, you pursed your lips together and shook your head, “I can’t stay here. We live with two different lifestyles, Chan. It will really be better for me if I leave and head back to where I come from.”

He nodded a little, lowering his head, “Jisung would want you to stay.”

You raised an eyebrow, staring down at him with a knowing smile. He knew that trick wouldn’t work on your anymore, not this time. Standing in silence, you glanced behind him at the group of boys for a moment, your eyes glistening as you scanned the crowd before they paused.

Returning back to Chan, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the tape your school nurse had given you. You pulled on his hand then, giving him the tape and closing his hand around it. When you looked back up at him, you widened your eyes brightly and your smile widened.

“Well, tell him I’m sorry and give this to Jisung for me, will you?”

Chan tilted his head to the side as you turned around to leave, giving your passport and your boarding ticket to the airport staff waiting by the machine. He opened his mouth to call you but stopped when he heard loud gasps coming from behind. Turning his head over, his eye widened and his knees went weak when he saw Jisung limping weakly over to the group of boys.

His skin was pale and he wore an oversized white shirt with an unfamiliar logo printed on it.

You passed through the gate before turning around to glance at the boys one more time, finding Jisung looking right back at you in between the arms of all his friends. You two held gazes, your hearts loudly longing for each other under the artificial lights of the airport.

Jisung’s heart beat the way it used to whenever he saw you. Perhaps his little crush hasn’t quite died down yet, from when you first met him to when you pushed yourself in front of him to keep him safe, and to when he laid in the bed of your school’s medical department where he could hear your classmates talking to you through the phone, and for the first time he found out how much tears you had shed just for him.

Perhaps he loved you, quite that much.

“Han Jisung.”

He mouthed your name back, silently, and you giggled under your breath. He could only see the wrinkles of your eyes and the quirking of your lips but it seemed like that was enough for him.

You turned around then, putting your earphones back into your ear and dialing the volume all the way up before you pressed start.

_“This is a mixtape, put together by Han Jisung, to you, (Name)! Let’s name this mixtape…”_

There came the sound of a pencil scribbling on a piece of paper.

_“For my great friend, you.”_


	3. blurb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hell week, or so-called as the idol purge week, is coming up. and stray kids hired an assassin to be one of their bodyguards through out this hellish week. jisung, particularly, seemed to have developed some interest in this assassin.

the familiarity of the conference room was both haunting and nostalgic. it seemed like just yesterday when the boys were all gathered here to discuss their first-ever purge week. but a year has passed already, and the dreadful week had once again approached within the linings of multiple joyful music show wins and several exciting comebacks.

just when they were getting too comfortable with the tranquility, it came splashing cold water down their head.

“we are going to send you away this time, so you guys will have a full week vacation to do whatever you want,” the staff said as she circled something on her planner, seemingly had already made this conversation with other groups under the entertainment. “we are here to discuss where you guys would want to go? since stray kids have made significant achievements this year, we planned to push out a slot and send you nine away too.”

she looked pointedly at the boys, prompting them to make a suggestion as she tapped the end of her pen against the paper. pressured by her slight impatience, the boys all looked to each other for suggestions, but the question had come too suddenly they didn’t have much time to think about where they really wanted to go.

“japan sounds fun…” _jeongin_ muttered, wide eyes looking across the room at his friends.

the others nodded, all seem to agree on this single place. it isn’t too far from korea, the food and shopping there are great, and there are zero murderous, insane people looking to cut their throat. it seemed like the best option.

but _jisung_ pursed his lips a little before he, mustering up the courage and with a mind filled with the person who he hasn’t heard of in a whole year, he spoke, “i want to go to greece.”

_chan_ turned his head over to him, a soft sigh escaping his frowning lips as soon as he heard the country where your assassination school was located. no matter how long or how many times he asked, _jisung_ would deny the fact that he was still pretty hung up on your departure. but both of themknew the truth.

the staff stared at _jisung_ for a moment, seemingly accessing the situation. if they were not mistaken, a portion of the staff already knew of what happened to him due to having to stop mid-way through their preparation for _jisung_’s supposed memorial session at the end of hell week. when he suddenly came back, it was a shocker to everyone, but what was the most unnerving was how he didn’t seem to care about his own well-being.

all he kept saying that day, when he returned from your school located all the way in greece, was _“bring them back.”_

she released her pen, dropping it on the table before she stood up. the annoyance on her face was no longer evident at the subtle mention of you, she stood up and calmly walked over to the door where she opened it a little to poke her head out. she waved her hand a little as if beckoning someone over before she returned back to her seat.

the boys raised their brows collectively at her questioning actions, all looking over to the closing door for a brief moment and all quiet stifling a gasp when a hand suddenly grabbed a hold of the frame and pushed open the door slightly.

“we can’t bring you to greece, but they came for you.”

your scruffy, dirty boots stepped into the familiar ground before you poked your head into the room. a curious expression was plastered on your face as you looked around the room, eyeing the staff and finally laying your gaze on the boys.

“hey, you guys,” you greeted casually, stepping into the room and letting the door shut behind you.

_chan_ was quick to stand up, approaching you with his arms open so he could give you a tight hug. you returned it after a moment of hesitation, smiling at his soft greeting as you acknowledged the rest of the boys standing before you with nods.

and then there was _jisung_, who stood up slowly, his patience wearing thinner and thinner as you stayed in _chan_’s embrace another second longer. he fiddled with the hem of his shirt nervously, his ears ringing with the beating of his loud heart when his brain finally processed your presence.

_chan_ finally let go of you, but instead of moving away so you could talk to the rest of the boys, he found you clutching onto the hem of his shirt nervously as your eyes glanced past his side at _jisung_, who kept looking at your direction.

you were just a little afraid, the tiny sparks of weariness taking over your overall excitement of finally being able to see _jisung_ again.

he sighed a little and removed your hand, sending you an encouraging nod before moving away so you finally stood face to face with _jisung_, who’s eyes have teared up a little when he realized this wasn’t another imaginative world of his, this was real. you were standing before him without the distance of an airport departure gate, the distance of the vast ocean separating two countries, the distance between reality and fantasy.

you looked at him. his eyes were still soft as ever, but they looked grown and less bubbly than before. perhaps it was just during this moment of reunion that there was a subtle pain of having missed you for so, so long. you hoped it was, you would give your all to see the natural gleam of cheer in his eyes again.

“hey, _jisung_.”

and then he wrapped his arms around you. tight and crushing, refusing to let you go the way he did a year ago when you two sat on the restroom floor. his mouth was pressed up against your shoulder so his tender sobs came out muffled and strangled, his hands clamped down on each of your shoulders in an iron grip that even he wouldn’t know how to untangle.

and like that, he cried, a lot.

you reached your hand up to his hair and lightly pat his head, trying to soothe him down even though you were pretty in need of some comfort yourself. you mumbled sweet little apologies in his ear, rubbing his head over and over again.

and like that, you let him cry on your shoulder.

_jisung_ didn’t pull away even after he had calmed down, he continued to occupy the space between your arms and he stubbornly did so, moving you two from left to right so you could relax your tensed up body a little.

“are you going to stay here this time?”

“for hell week, yeah,” you nodded.

jisung pursed his lips, tightening his arms around you if that was even humanly possible, “are you going to stay here this time?”

you furrowed your brows a little, “the answer is going to be the same even if you ask me the same question a hundred times, _jisung_.”

he heaved a sigh, frowning, “i just need to hear it. are you going to stay here this time?”

you looked over at the binds. the room was bright enough to illuminate everything yet somehow the sun insisted on shining down on the dark corner of the room. you looked at the sun-reflected dust roaming around the area, reminding yourself of the warehouse and just how quickly you would have answered him if the question was asked last year.

_are you going to stay here this time?_

“i’m going to stay with you this time, _jisung_.”


End file.
